Love Sick
by Jomatto
Summary: Girls make me sick. Literally.
1. Problem

**Chapter 1: Problem**

I see her face,

My chest gets tight,

I up my pace,

She remains in sight,

I look away,

And I try to flee,

To my dismay,

I can't get free,

My stomach turns,

My belly rumbles,

My insides churn,

And my legs stumble,

But I have learned,

That it can't be stopped.

I get dizzy,

And I get sweaty,

I hold my breath,

Cause I can feel death,

I feel it rise,

I feel it rising,

It's no surprise,

I know this feeling,

I take my leave,

Rushing to the stall,

And I heave, heave, heave,

Until I've heaved it all.

This problem of mine, is surely of mind,

But I can't accept, such nervous concept.

If a girl, is around,

I will make, retched sound.

I close my eyes, cause I am sick,

How I despise, such harsh afflict.

This my problem, I keep hidden,

The only way, I could fit in.

Between home and school, the sacred border,

Difference between, health and disorder.

Style of her hair,

Does not matter.

Color of her eye,

Is not factor.

The shape of her face,

Unimportant.

The width of her waist.

Mind discordant.

How her body looks, and how she appears,

Is of no concern, because of my fears.

Every woman, if so close they came,

My inside urges, I cannot contain.

And the end result, is always the same.

For this affliction, for who could I blame?

For how long will I suffer?

It's biological.

As long as I remember,

It's physiological.

Is there any cure in sight?

It's pathological.

Only solution is flight,

It's illogical.

And impossible.

The only thing I know,

Lack of resilience,

From past present go,

Learned from experience,

Is if I'm close to chick,

My only response is

To get very very sick.

Love.

Sick.

My name is Sora Hikari and I suffer from an extreme anxiety disorder that literally makes me sick every time I'm near a girl.

And I wonder if I will ever get over this problem.


	2. Stages

**Chapter 2: Stages**

The best times of my life has always been in that tiny sliver between waking life and sleeping dead.

In that brief window, I am in absolute control. Isn't that the dream? To have everything go exactly the way I want it to? But reality soon wrestles that feeling away and disappointment sets in. I lose control, I lose the memories, and what I'm left with are the ghostly imprints of something—perhaps the only something that gives me hope that life isn't a total wash. I'm forced to make the hard choice: do I stay in bed or do I get up?

When it's the summer, the answer is obvious: stay, stay, and stay in bed.

Only during the summer can I enjoy life without stress or worry. It's a feeling that every teenager can relate to, but I'm not every teenager. I relish academia. All the school projects, pop quizzes, worksheets, and tests are the things I live for. It keeps my mind busy. There are many things about school that drive me crazy, but school itself is not one of them. What does? I don't want to think about that right now. Just let me relax.

I live in Destiny Islands, where the weather is great 99% of the time (with that 1% reserved for cataclysmic thunderstorms, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions—no, not really). There's nothing like an early summer breeze blowing through an open window. I sleep comfortably, half-covered with a thin blanket, with my body sprawled over the mattress.

Who am I? I didn't tell you? Let me introduce myself. I am Sora. Everything about me is average, which is just the way I like it. Average is unnoticeable. Average is invisible. Average is average. And life is good.

Until I feel the mattress vibrate to the thudding footsteps that stop outside my door. I know who it is. My cocoon of peace is breaking. I let out a sigh, almost imperceptible as a sleepy exhalation. The door creaks and muffled sound becomes clear.

"Hey Sora, its tomorrow now! Didn't you promise you'll show me around today?"

Roxas. That blasted fool. How dare he disturb the careful equilibrium I have tried so hard to maintain? One week ago, I was free to refine my social isolation techniques, as I have always done over the last few summers, but I never calculated for some cousin who popped out of nowhere making an impromptu move into my very home.

Yes, this "cousin" of mine claims to be from Twilight Town and has moved to Destiny Islands for reasons I care not for. He is bright, cheerful, and highly sociable—the person I could've been, but the very opposite of what I am. Either he's friendly to a fault or he's got an ulterior motives. Ever since his unwelcome arrival at my doorstep, he's been trying to get me to go outside nonstop. I understand that some people are stubborn, but he's being suspiciously persistent.

I hold special insight into human behavior. A lifetime of self-imposed solitude and isolation tends to wreak havoc on the mind. What friends, music, movies, and video games that people have filled the void with, I replaced with dictionaries, psychology text books, self-help guides, and diagnostic encyclopedias. My pursuit in finding the solution for my mental affliction has left my thought processes a little unconventional. I like to think I'm really smart, but I don't want to brag. Oh wait, too late. You're curious about my mental affliction? Sorry, but I can't talk about that right now.

"Leave me alone," I mumble. It's too early in the morning. Hopefully, he can pick up my obvious disinterest and leave me alone already.

"No can do. You have to show me around." No can do? What is this nonsense? Just go out and explore on your own!

"Do you really need a babysitter? Walk out there and enjoy the sunshine." I hear his feet shuffle.

"Look man, I've been here for a whole week already and I haven't seen you go outside once. Don't tell me Destiny Islands is so boring that even you don't want to go out?"

It's a rhetorical question, but not a very clever one. Who is he kidding? Destiny Islands is the number one resort island location in the entire world. It's thriving economy is based solely on its fantastic weather, amazing beaches, and world-class food. The schools here aren't so much schools than they are tutorials on showing people how to have a good time—which is what the entire business on the island consists of: tourism, tourism, and tourism—on that thought, I have just the thing.

I crawl towards the dresser and pull open my drawer. My hand searches until it snags a brochure. It's the standard Destiny Islands travel guide. I toss it over to him. "Here. Go crazy with it."

I've crossed the line of no return. I've been roused to that state where returning to sleep is impossible. Waking up is a dicey preposition, you have about a minute at most to get back to sleep. After that, good luck with knocking yourself out again.

I look over his getup. It's laughable and completely impractical for island use. His Twilight Town threads have no place in the tropical heat. The long sleeves and pants are a dead giveaway that he isn't local. Roxas lets out a frustrated sigh and rubs the back of his head. His hair is appropriately spiky, which lends credence to his claim of blood relation, but it spun and spiraled as opposed to my head of hair, which exploded.

"Okay, you got me." I did? I mean, of course I did. Ulterior motive, reveal yourself. "Aunt Aerith let me stay here on one condition, and that is if I could help you get some friends."

I stare at him dumbly. It's true that I don't have friends, but it's because I _can't_ have friends. Why not? Let me explain later, I'm in the middle of a conversation here. "Why does mom want me to get friends?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe because she wants you to? I don't care that much, but if getting you friends is my rent, then I'm gonna have to pay it." Good luck with that.

"You do know that I don't want you here, right?"

He smiles. "I could guess that."

"Wouldn't it be in my best interest to have you kicked out?"

"Well yeah... but that would make you an asshole." Like I have any qualms about being one.

I laugh. Human interaction… I almost missed it. "Fine. You win." His eyes light up like high beams on an empty stretch of desert road at night. "But first, give me your clothes and," I point to my drawer, "you'll have to wear mine."

He took a step back. "What are you going to do with my mine?"

"Burn it."

He chuckles. "Good one."

"Hurry up and get dressed already! Bad enough you're forcing me to wake up early. Don't just stand there."

"Geez, and here I thought you would take your sweet time since you like sleeping in so much."

I leave him to pick something out from my wardrobe and make a beeline towards the bathroom. I shut the door and turn around to face my reflection in the mirror. Every time I see my face, I can't help but crack a smile. It's only when I'm alone do I allow myself to grin. Dour expressions are best for keeping annoyances away. With one sweep of my hand, my hair shakes off the sleep and stiffens up. I lean close against the mirror and carefully rub away the crust that clings to my blue eyes. A few more runs through my morning routine and I should be prepped for action.

The reason I told Roxas to switch clothes was simple: I don't want him to stand out. Wearing out-of-town clothes is like wearing a giant neon-bright sign saying, "Sucker here!" There would be no end to the marketers, solicitors, and scammers. Blending in is the best option. Unless he _wanted_ to be treated as a tourist, but even then, there'll be no tourists around me.

I finish brushing my teeth and slip into my clothes reserved for going out: the plainest white t-shirt and the most boring pair of brown shorts you will ever see. Perfect! I look at myself one more time and take a deep breath. You can do this. This entire summer has been training for this one moment. I put one hand over my stomach. You are iron now! Forged into hard steel from the hot summers of past. I am ready.

So you want to know what my problem is, right? I'm sorry for being so evasive, but that's part of my training. This may sound dumb, impossible, or even made up, but it's the truth.

Girls make me sick.

I'm not being figurative, this is literal. They literally make me sick, and by make me sick, I mean they make me throw up along with all the unpleasantness prior to the actual act: the queasy nausea, the dizziness, the cramping, and the dread of knowing that your insides will soon be outside.

Don't ask me why this happens when I'm around a girl because I don't know—or rather, I don't remember. There are gaps in my memory, and after that gap, I've suddenly acquired female proximity sickness. Conventional psychology says I have repressed memories. It may have been so traumatic, my mind simply refuses to remember. I'm no hypnotist and my mom is allergic to shrinks, so I'll have to wait for an epiphany or suffer a serious concussion to recover from my localized amnesia.

My nickname throughout grade school was "Sickboy," naturally because I was throwing up all the time. Everybody chalked it up to a weak immune system but I knew better. My suspicions were confirmed when mom took me to the doctor. Dr. Yen Sid couldn't find anything wrong with me and instructed mom to carefully watch my diet. It wasn't a physical problem, it was mental.

Even though I hadn't learned the scientific method yet, I intuitively experimented with my condition and found out that my gag reflex activated whenever I was near a girl. The experiments were painful to say the least, but by the time I figured it out, "Sickboy" became my permanent nickname. I found the solution to my problem to be quite simple: avoid girls at all costs. Thanks to the existence of "cooties" among prepubescent children, avoiding girls wasn't hard at all. The boys clung together and I was able to enjoy a decent social life.

Once middle school rolled around, "cooties" turned into "hotness," and every guy did an about face and started chasing after girls. I would've followed them, but I had my health to worry about. I finally realized that my one-sided social life could no longer continue as it was. With all my buddies jumping on the adolescent bandwagon, I had to fend for myself. I had no choice but to forget about socializing entirely. If interacting with 50% of the population reduces me to fits of puking, and if the other 50% is constantly chasing after the other, it just means that I have to omit 100% of the population from my list of things to interact with on a daily basis. Most kids start their "rebel" phase in middle school, I elected for a "repel" phase.

I read books upon books on how to be popular, how to be smooth with the ladies, and how to make friends. I gathered and cataloged all this knowledge—and did the complete opposite of what I learned. I took the laws of attraction and turned them into the laws of repulsion. People are drawn to confidence, humor, and mystery. So I became boring, withdrawn, and transparent. I became painfully shy, the kind of shyness that produces nothing but awkward situations. Lack of confidence was easy to emulate. All I had to do was change my posture, hunch over, keep my head down, never talk, avoid eye contact, and never smile. Whenever I stumble into an encounter, I simply mumble "sorry" and move on without waiting for a response. By the end of middle school, I was an antisocial asshole.

By freshman year, I knew that I couldn't continue being a prick, since that drew more attention than I wanted. People avoided me like I wanted them to, but there was no end to the white knights, nosy teachers, and bullies threatening to get in my way. Repulsion was only a temporary solution. I sought an alternative and found it in "invisibility." This way, I could maintain minimal exposure without inviting bad feelings. It involves doing things that make you feel like everybody is looking at you, until you realize that everybody is too hung up on themselves to notice. You have to blend in, and that involves researching the hottest trends. You dress between "outdated" and "latest" and nobody will ever notice. Even then, invisibility was just a stepping stone. This summer, I'm taking it to the next stage: perception.

They say perception is everything. Instead of me becoming invisible, I've trained my perception to render _them_ invisible. If I am close to a girl, she does not exist as a "girl" until she moves outside my immediate cognitive zone. It's insane, I know, but it's the only way I can survive. The appearance of Roxas delayed the development of this technique for awhile, but I'm ready to test it now. I exit the bathroom and check on Roxas. He turns around, dressed in my t-shirt and shorts.

"Aren't these kind of plain?" he asks.

"They're perfect. Come on, let's go."

He grins and follows me earnestly. "Finally! So where are we going?"

I face him and quirk a brow. "Where else? This is Destiny Islands. There's only one place to go, and that's the beach."


	3. Perspective

**Chapter 3: Perspective**

Gynophobia is such a funny word.

There was a time in my life when I considered that I might have it, but through vigorous and thorough testing, I concluded that I do not, in fact, suffer from gynophobia. I do feel apprehensive and nervous around girls but they don't actually scare me. What scares me is what happens when they get too close. The difference is in fear of effect, not of the cause. It may seem the same but it's not—at least it shouldn't be. Stop looking at me like that, I'm not afraid of girls, damn it!

You would think growing up with the inability to approach girls (without throwing up) would somehow destroy my entire concept of females, dooming them to nebulous company with mythical creatures such as unicorns and land sharks—but it didn't. Instead, my admiration for the fairer sex reached unseen levels of obsession.

I love girls.

They are the amazing half of humanity. It's no exaggeration, and despite my better judgment, and how blatantly sexist this may seem, I can't help but categorize girls as exotic animals—unable to meet in person, but with much to learn about through books and film. Growing up, you might have read about kangaroos and Tasmanian Devils, but I read about girls.

I'm a man of simple taste. I don't need riches, fame, or good looks. All I want is to be able to talk to girls without becoming sick. It's not gynophobia—it's love. My condition may just be the physical manifestation of too much love for girls. I call it "love sickness."

Don't tell me you actually believed that?

The truth is, I don't really know. It's not like my condition has an officially recognized name. I had to come up with one myself. It's probably a sub-variant of gynophobia, but "love sickness" sounds better. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? It implies none of the horrifying and debilitating social effects that come with it.

With that in mind, I move forward boldly—unlike my cousin whose doe-eyed gawking is undermining my attempts to blend in with the general populace. "Do you want to go to the beach or not?" I ask.

He shoots me a disarming smile. "I can't help myself, this place is awesome! It's completely different from Twilight Town! Everything is so bright and vivid." I can't tell if he's pulling my leg. The street we're on is the same as any other street on the island. Palm trees line the road, their giant branches swaying in the wind, arching as if to shield the crowds on foot. A tropical theme pervades the architecture, with rooftops designed to resemble huts, torch-shaped lampposts dotting the streets, and brown hues running rampant on buildings. When you move inland, the land slopes up, providing a cascading town view. Homes and buildings sit on the hills precariously, as if a gentle breeze could knock them over. If this generic street captivates his primitive mind so, I dread to think of his reaction to the actual beach.

"You haven't seen anything remotely interesting yet. What's the _real_ reason for why you're so slow?"

He chuckles. "It's just—the _scenery _is real nice around here." He's talking about the girls; why else would his voice dip into such lecherous tones? I observe the many girls walking about in swimsuits and bikinis—an all too common sight around here. Fortunately, they're far enough to not affect me.

One of the things I've learned about my love sickness is that it has a range. Symptoms don't manifest unless they get within a 5 feet. I'm a living example of the expression, "look, but don't touch." Their beauty isn't lost on me; even I can appreciate good looks, but only at the appropriate time and place, which is far, far away from me.

"The scenery is a lot better at the beach, so get moving!" I speed up, forcing him to chase after me. That's more like it.

"You make a terrible tour guide. How am I supposed to take in the surroundings if I keep getting shooed around?"

"I'm shooing you to better surroundings, like this." I present the beach to him with a flourish, and his jaw predictably drops.

"Th-this is amazing!" I see several cart-pushing vendors eyeing my cousin like vultures.

"Let's go." He nods his head and we move deeper into the beach. The ocean is truly beautiful. No one, not even a native like me, is immune to its charms. The water is crystal clear, transparent enough that you can see the sandy bottom. The white sand is the finest in the world and it feels like fairy dust. It's a stunning sight, like a postcard photo, a landscape portrait, an image of paradise, and a slice of heaven all rolled into one. There's no beach like Destiny Islands. And it's teeming with bikini clad girls.

Lord help me.

"I have never seen so many hot girls in one place before!" my tawdry cousin exclaims.

There's a simple reason for that. Remember when I said that Destiny Islands was the number one resort location in the entire world? Being number one means we're also the most expensive location in the entire world. Everybody you see here comes from two different categories: native or tourist.

If you're here as a tourist, it means you're packing cash, mad money, or top-tier plastic. People in the lap of luxury can afford to look a little decent. They can buy the best beauty products, visit the best gyms, and wear the best trimmings. A lot of Destiny Island's business revolves around beauty treatments. Consider the rich bachelors who come down here with an entourage of fashion models in each arm. Consider the fashion models that are here to do exotic photo shoots and their entourage of male eye candy. And let's not forget about the celebrities here on vacation.

It all comes down to money. Beauty attracts business, and Destiny Islands is the most beautiful place in existence—which brings us to the natives. From the moment we are born, we are taught that beauty is everything. The schools teach us to look our best, and to do everything to make sure that we stand out. Athletics isn't a choice; it's required to advance to the next level. Thanks to the schools' insistence on fitness, Destiny Islands has the lowest levels of obesity in the entire world. PE teachers are paid more than the math and science teachers. Academics don't mean much. They groom us to become lookers, so that we can attract more visitors. Destiny Islands is proud of their title of number one in a lot of categories, and to retain that competitive edge, they would sacrifice their youth to do so. It's a warped and shallow creed we live by. Ugliness is a sin, and it can cost you your soul.

For me, it's the opposite. The severity of my condition correlates to how beautiful I think a girl looks. Back in middle school, I tried to trick myself into thinking that every girl was ugly. They all thought I was an asshole, but when it comes to preserving my body or their self-esteem, my body wins every time.

"You'll get used to it," I say. If he gets stunned every time he comes near a pretty girl, he might as well give up on life and go into a comatose state.

"Back in Twilight Town, the best you could find was a seven. So many nines and tens here!" The best in Twilight Town was a seven? Sounds like my kind of place. In elementary school, I kept company with the plainest girls, or even better, girls who could be mistaken for boys. It's kind of hard to do that nowadays, since they all have breasts, curves, and make up.

Thankfully, my technique does appear to be working. It's about using my imagination, along with mind voodoo and unhealthy amounts of self-deception. When I tried tricking myself into seeing girls as ugly in middle school, I thought of them as flabby witches, bark-faced trolls, and ugly ogres. The illusion would only stick for a few seconds before shattering. The gap between a pretty girl and a monster was too large for my imagination to overcome. I had to find another mental substitute. I discovered the answer in mannequins. They possess all the features of a girl, their curves and beautiful form, except they're not alive. I tried to use mannequins to desensitize myself to real girls before, but that failed. However, they were the perfect perceptual substitutes.

Standing in the middle of the beach with my cousin, I am surrounded by girls on all fronts. The ones in my immediate proximity appear to be pale, perfectly smooth, and impossibly sculpted figures, shining in the sun with a wax sheen. They are mannequins. The only distinction I perceive are their clothes—in this case, the swimsuits. As soon as they leave my radial sphere, they return to life, healthy color seeping into their skin, and rigid poses melting into vibrant fluidity. It's actually working. Not so much as a stomach pang!

"Let's go talk to some girls!" my cousin suggests. I've already made great progress today; talking with a girl might be pushing it. Granted I'm functional, but I'm not _that_ functional. He doesn't even wait before springing off into some random direction. I'm responsible for bringing him here and it's my responsibility to bring him back. I follow him to make sure he doesn't get lost. As I swerve in and out of half naked bodies, my perception goes haywire. I pass so many girls, my mind can't keep up with the projections. Some phase in and out of mannequin states like I envisioned, but others slip through my mental net. I'm walking through a minefield of rigid plastic statues and moving bodies, and the ones that are living threaten my stomach's stability. My belly begins to grumble at the sheer number of girls.

If Roxas doesn't stop soon, things can get very bad for me. I'm starting to get delirious. The mixture of scents, sounds, and sights swirl into sensory overload. I can taste the ocean salt mixed in with perfume and fruity shampoo flavors, and feel the SPF sunscreen sloughing off from moist skin. Gaggles and giggles echo in my ears. My head feels dizzy and heavy. I clench my eyes shut to block out the visual stimuli. White streaks flash beneath my eyelids. I walk blindly until I stumble into someone's back. I open my eyes. Roxas has stopped. He's before a small group of girls. Wait...

I think recognize them. They're all from my school.

"So girls, how's it going?" my idiot cousin asks.

Damn it.

This will not end well.


	4. Escape

**Chapter 4: Escape**

I once had a friend named Brother.

He had a mean face, liked to run around shirtless, and was an all-around nice guy. We used to hang out in elementary school. In sixth grade, he invited me over to his birthday party. I remember there being pizza and cake, the two elements to make any party great—for kids anyways. Nowadays, it's all alcohol and hot chicks (or guys, for the ladies out there). All we drank back then was soda, packed with sugar and caffeine, a killer combo, making hyperactive little kids a little more hyper and active.

By virtue of his birthday boy privileges, Brother decided to submit us to a new game he made up, called the "Mystery Closet" game. It would only last for one turn. That was probably the only reason we agreed to play, after all, the faster the game was over, the faster we could get seconds. He jury-rigged an old twister spinner and replaced all the colors with our names except for his. The alarm bells should've rang in our feeble 11-year old minds when we saw it, but we were dumb back then—hell, we still are. With great aplomb, he spun the pointer around and around until it landed on a name.

Mine.

"So what happens now?" I asked.

Brother smiled. "You get to go into the Mystery Closet!" Kids will go along with anything with enough peer pressure. The probing eyes of my fellow party goers gave me no choice but to follow Brother into the most mysterious of closets. "Now close your eyes!"

A blindfold was tied around my eyes and his hand shoved me forward. A gust of wind blew across my face as the door slammed shut. I felt the temperature drop by a couple degrees. I stood there in the closet, wondering what would happen next. I saw nothing, heard nothing, and felt nothing. As far as I knew, Brother was just messing with me. So I reached out my hands and touched something that didn't feel like clothes or linen. It was soft, smooth, and warm, like skin.

"Ah!" There was another person in here! That was the mystery? I thought, "What a lame game, Brother!" I pulled down my blindfold and my vision remained dark. All I saw was black. My eyes started to adjust until I made out a distinct figure before me. It was a person, backed up against the corner.

"So uh... who is it?" I asked.

"I-I'm Brother's little sister, Rikku."

Girl's voice.

Little sister.

Girl.

Sister.

Girl.

In the closet.

**"GAAARRRGGGHHHHHH!"**

My reaction was instantaneous. As soon as I figured out that I was stuck in a closet with a girl, my body expelled every slice of pizza, every piece of cake, and every drink of soda I consumed at that party onto that girl. She screamed hysterically, scared out of her mind at feeling some weird, dark, and dank substance spewing upon her. The closet door shot open, momentarily blinding the both of us. Brother and his friends saw me bowing before a vomit covered Rikku.

They laughed, laughed, and laughed some more. She ran off in tears, teasing laughter following close behind, and I was left wondering what the hell just happened. Rikku cried in her room the whole day, while I had to clean myself up.

_"That was awesome, Sickboy!"_

After that, Brother and his boys told everybody at school about what happened. According to them, I found Rikku so repulsive that I threw up on her. She was made fun of for weeks. The silly name the kids came up for her?

Pukku.

There were two things I learned that day. The first was that my body didn't react until I knew she was a girl. It wasn't a biological response, but one triggered by the recognition of her sex. This gave me hope that I could someday get over this problem. The second thing I learned?

Rikku hates me. She really, really, really hates me. Which is why, of all the girls Roxas could possibly approach, it had to be her.

I try to cast my mannequin spell but nothing happens. Guess it only works on random girls I've never seen before. Great. Time for plan B and use my invisibility techniques. First things first, turn around, sit down, and look down. You are invisible. You are not related to Roxas. He is just a bumbling stranger about to be shot down, and then, we'll be on our merry way.

"Hmm, girls, what do you think?" a deep but distinctly feminine voice asks. I suppress an involuntary shudder. Husky female voices wreak havoc on my spine.

"I'd say a six." That was Rikku's voice. I could never forget it, not when I've heard it in bawling, screeching, and screaming form. Having "_I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!_" screamed at your face leaves one hell of an impression. But a six? Isn't that kind of generous? I'm thinking a five myself.

"Whoa whoa, girls, are you rating me?" Why yes, Roxas, they are indeed rating you. Beauty rating isn't exclusive to guys. This is Destiny Islands, everybody does it, and no one is exempt.

"What do you think?" the husky voice replies.

"You girls have high standards huh?" No shit, Roxas. Bail out while you still have your pride! Staying any longer will only result in profound sadness. Maybe if you weren't so busy checking out the girls, you could at least see the competition! Every guy here is packing six packs, impeccable pecs, and blazing biceps. Your scrawny Twilight Town ass doesn't stand a chance.

"Leave the boy alone," another, much gentler, voice says. "He's obviously new here. Shouldn't we make him feel welcome?" A voice of reason in this island of madness? I almost feel like turning around just to see her face, but my stomach rumbles, reminding me that to do so would be folly. Point taken, tummy.

"Aw, you're too nice Yuna!" Rikku admonishes. "Sometimes you gotta let guys know the truth!"

"Here's a question, boy," the husky voice starts, "how would you rate us? It's only fair that you get a chance to reply, right?" It's a trap. It's totally a trap. Did I mention it's a trap?

"I think you're all tens!" The safe answer. A really safe, boring, and completely uninteresting answer. Of course, saying anything less is an insult. That's what makes it a trap, because there's only two ways it can go, you come off as either boring or insulting. You have to appreciate the guy's enthusiasm though.

"Predictable."

"Bo~ring."

"That was a little... bland."

I can feel Roxas' awkwardness radiate against my back. He must be red as a cherry. Serves the bastard right.

"You girls are tough!" my cousin comments. "I guess I'm a little out of my element, huh?" The defeat is too obvious. He's already given up. Can we get out of here now? "Come on Sora, let's go." You idiot, don't use my name!

"Sora?" Rikku's high pitch stings my ear drums. I could turn around but... I'd rather not.

"Uh... Sora, I think she's calling for you." Why don't you just make a giant sign with an arrow pointing towards me and paint my name across it?

"It IS you Sora; I'd recognize that hair anywhere!" The jig is up. I stand, dust off my shorts, fix a smile on my face, and turn around.

"Ah! Rikku, I almost didn't recognize you without my puke all over you." Old habits die hard. I've successfully walked two steps back in my training program. Mannequin spell? No good. Invisibility? No dice. Insults? Last resort. "How are you doing?"

She flinches. There was no subtlety in what I said. It was good old-fashioned blunt force trauma. A punch to the gut that stuns, sucks all the air out of your chest, and leaves you speechless. At this point, they usually clam up, call me "jerk," and run off in the opposite direction.

"Still the same jerk as ever, I see."

So much for that. This isn't a random school hall where she just happened to bump into me and I had to do some immediate warding. We're at the beach, she's with her friends, and there's no reason for her to run off just because of my lame insult. Roxas, this is all your fault!

The worst part of it? Rikku is beautiful, shining like the sun, with golden skin wrapped in a yellow top, and blonde, braided, banana tresses flowing from her head. She had it, and she flaunted it; long legs, flat stomach, and lithe figure. A true knockout in every sense of the word. Her enchanting green eyes are making me green, and not with envy, but with nausea. If I look at her face-to-face, I'll be throwing up all over the place.

I shift my attention past her but hit another snag: her friends. My ghost stare usually works wonders. I gaze at a fixed point behind the person until they get fed up with my inattention. But if looking past Rikku meant looking at another pair of beautiful girls, then I'm screwed. On her left is a pretty brunette with a cotton-ball face. Dark hair dove off the sides of her head at sharp angles, stopping right above her shoulders. The most intriguing feature, aside from her dynamite body, are her split colored eyes—blue and green.

On the right is a stone-faced statue with ruby eyes. Her hair is like whipped coffee-flavored cream with licks dangling in front of her hard gaze. A black halter top draws attention to her swan neck and delicate shoulders. Tight, black, shorts highlight her amazing thighs. If that's how those look like, I can't imagine how tight her butt is.

My right arm is becoming numb. I can't flex my fingers. My stomach is brewing something gnarly, and my left leg is cramping. I try my best to stare into space, giving no attention to where my eyes are, but my peripheral is painfully acute. "I apologize Pukku—I mean, Rikku." I slipped on purpose. Instead of throwing haymakers, it'll be a test of endurance.

"Haha, very funny, Sora."

"What's Pukku?" the husky-voiced girl, the ruby-eyed one, asks.

"What does he mean by puke all over you?" the split-eyed girl adds.

"I-it's nothing guys. Just some stupid insult," she answers nervously.

"Rikku never told you girls about her early days?" I put on my haughtiest smirk. This is a potentially very embarrassing situation for you, Rikku. Run lest you suffer embarrassment!

"What is it?" ruby lets out curiously.

"It's nothing!" Rikku says.

"Back in sixth grade, I pu—"

"He puked all over me okay? Everybody found out about it in elementary and called me Pukku until I hit middle school. Satisfied, girls?"

"That's..."

"Nothing to be ashamed about," split-eyes finishes. "Every girl gets thrown up on at least once in their life." Wait, really? Is it a rite of passage for girls or something? "At the daycare center, the kids throw up on me all the time."

"But you have to admit, Pukku does have a nice ring to it," ruby laughs.

"Paine!" Rikku screams.

"I'm just kidding," ruby—Paine says, cracking a smirk.

"I do declare this childhood trauma resolved," I trumpet, hoping to escape while Rikku's friends are trying to console her. "Me and my idiot cousin will get out of your way now."

"Wait just a minute there, boy, don't think you can just leave," Paine threatens.

"Why is that girlie girl?" It isn't my best, but I'm getting desperate here. The numbness is creeping up to my shoulder. If I'm here any longer, I'm liable to collapse.

"G-girlie girl?"

"Girl, your girlishness is too girly for me." It's extremely lame, I know. I experimented with cheesiness and found that most girls just roll their eyes, but it can be extremely effective in some cases, especially for not-so-girly girls. Cheese overload, baby.

Split-eyes laughs. "That really fits you Paine! _Girlie girl_."

"Shut up," Paine orders, crossing her arms.

"My name is Yuna," split-eyes announces. "Paine is kind of sensitive about her femininity."

"I said shut up!"

The other girls chortle.

"Look, you, er," Paine tries to think quickly, "doofus!"

"Ohmigawd, she said doofus!" Rikku squeals. She and Yuna explode in another round of giggles. I join in, only because my stomach is killing me. Hiding my discomfort with laughter is another trick I've learned.

"Look, Sora, you can't leave here without playing the same game your buddy did," Paine says. "Nobody is allowed to escape us unscathed." Finally, a clear path of escape.

Poor Roxas. He thought he was gonna get somewhere with these girls and thought I was gonna wing it for him too, but in a battle of two versus three, it's obvious who's going to win. He tried to fly with no wings and got shot down before takeoff. These girls are tight, too tight, and they propped each other up, supported the other, and erected an impenetrable force field. If I wasn't so close to them, I'd appreciate their beauty. Instead, I stare straight up at the sky, hoping to avoid another retching session. A sea gull flies overhead.

"Gullwings," I say.

"Huh?" the girls chorus.

"You girls are gullwings, not numbers on a scale. Like beautiful feathers lifting each other to higher heights. Gullwings." Now let's bail! I grab Roxas, who was unusually silent the entire time, and run away.

"Hey, wait, Sora!" I spin around and lean back since her face is so close. "What happened to you?" I try to put on a smile, but the pain in my stomach creeps to the edges of my mouth, forcing me to compensate with a much wider grin.

"People change," I reply.

"Really now? In that case, we're going to get some ice cream right now; don't you want to join us?" Let me go, please. Whatever ice cream I eat with come out anyways, especially with you girls!

"I don't want to overstay my welcome, and I have to show my cousin around."

"Will I see you around after this?" She sounds like she wants to see me again.

"Of course, we go to the same school after all."

"Really?" Freshman year, disappearing act—she probably never "saw" me.

"Yeah, so uh..." I've lost all feeling in my left arm. "I gotta jet now."

"Just one more thing." Damn it woman, do you want a repeat of sixth grade! "Do you think I'm ugly?"

"No. You're fucking beautiful." Her mouth drops in shock. "Later!" I jostle off with my cousin in tow and don't look back.

Hmm. A vulgar compliment? I should add it to my repertoire.

We leg it until we're a good distance away. I can finally breathe again. Roxas hasn't said a single thing since being laughed off the beach. He stares at me with this look of extreme respect that is seriously creeping me out. "What is it?"

"Dude." He narrows his eyes, his brow crinkling in intense concentration, and searches the ground for the right thing to say. He lifts his head, closes his eyes, and opens them wide. "**Dude. That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen**!"

"Roxas, what on earth are you on about?" He ignores me and continues pacing back and forth, wildly gesturing with his arms as if to reenact a battle.

"You were so smooth! I can't believe you didn't accept her invitation, I would've said something, but damn, I couldn't say anything! How did you do it, man? What's your secret?" he says in a rush.

Secret? Are you talking about my love sickness, because I have no idea what you're talking about. "Secret to what?"

"Keeping it close to the vest, huh? I see how it is, act like you don't know. Real smart. I should do that too."

"Did something happen that I don't know about?"

"Oh, you know." Actually I don't. "Only a master could do what you did and act like its all natural. Those girls, they were all over you!"

Lies! Lies! I won't fall for your Jedi mind tricks! There is no way that those girls were even remotely, with one iota in their body, interested in me! But why is it then, that I have the stupidest, dumbest grin on my face right now? Maybe it's seeing Roxas worship the ground I step on, or maybe, just maybe, I'm actually making some progress here.

A man can dream, can't he?


	5. Unexpected

**Chapter**** 5:**** Unexpected**

It was a fluke.

After much consideration and thought, I concluded that my encounter with Rikku and friends was nothing more than a statistical aberration. I don't believe in fate, destiny, or divine providence—I believe in probability, statistics, and chance. 95% of my encounters with girls end in bad feelings, mostly for them. This is that 5% where both parties escaped unscathed. A situation like this is extremely rare, but just because it's rare doesn't mean it never happens. For one day, the planets aligned, the stars twinkled, and the sun smiled upon me. Nothing more, nothing less.

I find the idea of chance to be a lot more romantic than destiny anyways. Which is more extraordinary? That two people are destined to meet and fall in love with each other, or that two people _happen _to meet and fall in love in with each other? If you want to gamble with higher odds, you bet on the latter. It's the only way I can tolerate my condition. The thought that some people are doomed to failure offsets any good fate gives us. Better to believe that fortune and misfortune all comes down to the roll of the dice—I just happened to get a bad roll.

The view of the ceiling from my bed is a familiar one. I'm not really looking at it, because my mind's eye is occupied on something much more captivating than white stucco and ceiling beams. I spend a lot of time in bed; it's my favorite thinking spot. If you're going to be engaging in an exercise that doesn't demand movement, you might as well do it in a place that's comfortable. My bed is my refuge, my office, the place where all great ideas are born. How many simulations have I ran under the comfort of my comforters? Too many to count.

Somebody knocks on my door. Only one person does that and that's my mom. The door creaks open to reveal a woman—the only woman in this entire world that doesn't make me sick. I've wondered why she doesn't affect me, but decided to leave it alone. I wouldn't want to unearth any oedipal implications. Many would consider my mom to be "beautiful," with woven brunette hair that spins in braids down the sides of her face, and a pink ribbon that locks in the main braid behind her. The long hair is a recent trend; she used to have it short. She wears an elegant dress that billows to the floor. I don't think I've ever seen my mother in a pair of pants. She prefers the feminine mode of dress involving skirts and the like. There's a phone in her hand.

"Sora," she calls out, a soft smile on her lips. "Dad's on the phone, he wants to talk to you." Her eyes shift to my desk, which is messy from my work last night, where I tried deconstructing yesterday's events. My notebook is open with circles and squares lined up in a diagram tree. It's a chart of possible consequences resulting from different responses and questions. From my calculations, I somehow stumbled upon the path to amicable separation.

Mom chews the bottom of her lip. It bothers her. The longer she stares, the more she fidgets. Finally, she scurries over, organizes it quickly, closes my notebooks, and leaves the phone there. "Bring it back once you're done speaking." She leaves my room.

I get up from bed and pick up the phone. It's plain, with blinking buttons and a small LED screen. It lacks the sophistication of a smart phone, but it makes up for it with ironclad reception, which is important for international calls. "Hello?"

"Sora, how's it going?" dad greets. He calls on occasion, mostly to check up on things, but I have a feeling this call has something to do with Roxas. The timing's too coincidental.

"Okay, I guess." Roxas had certainly thrown a wrench in my plans for the summer, but since school starts in a few weeks, I suppose it's not too big of a wrench. This can be an opportunity to accelerate my self-improvement program, if only he stopped acting so dumb.

"Good, good, so I take it that my nephew's there?"

"You mean Roxas?" So he came from my dad's side.

"Roxas, yeah, that's his name. How are things between you? Teaching him about the island scene?" My dad spoke fast, his voice flush with excitement. He's clearly interested in how Project Roxas is panning out.

"I'm trying. I think he's suffering from a little bit of culture shock. He probably needs some time to adjust. Living on the islands isn't exactly a picnic." A modicum of intelligence might also help.

"Hahaha, I know what you mean, but that's good to hear. Look, I want you to look after him real close, okay? Make sure he doesn't get into any trouble, or at least the bad kind of trouble."

"Like there's a good kind? Why the extra care? His history that bad?"

"I'm not too sure of the details myself, but my sister said she really needed the favor. Something real bad happened in Twilight Town, something bad enough to require a fresh start."

Bad history and fresh starts? Intriguing... was that why Roxas acted the way he did? It must be a ill-advised attempt at reinvention. Too many questions and not enough answers. "You wouldn't happen to know the details, would you?"

"Sorry, but my sister was too vague about it. It's class-A sensitive, apparently." Class-A sensitive was the highest level of sensitivity. Whatever happened, it must've been harsh. "Just keep him company. Be his friend."

"Uh... is he a suicide risk?" I joke.

"No! Not at all! Well... I don't really know, maybe. You tell me, you're the one hanging out with him! Just make sure he doesn't get hurt."

"Physically or emotionally?"

"Why not both? Cover all your bases."

"I see... Well, thanks for the call. How are things on your end?"

"It's a work in progress. It's been getting a little better, but she still pops up from time to time. I'll get a handle on her soon enough. I gotta get going, but I'll see you in time for the holidays. Good bye!"

"Alright. Bye."

My dad is an unusual case; afflicted with a condition some might call a mild case of schizophrenia. He has a wife that only he can see, hear, and acknowledge. I'm not talking about my mom, who is thankfully real. It's rather confusing, but my dad has two wives—Aerith, my mom, and Aeris, the imaginary version of my mom. Did I mention dad doesn't live with us? The whole schizophrenic thing is a part of it, and the other reason is that he works as a security escort for a globetrotting VIP. By all accounts, my dad is completely normal, except for the imaginary wife thing. He could've at least waited until my mom actually died before imagining an alternate version of her.

Between an OCD mom and a schizophrenic dad, it's a miracle I wasn't born feral. Perhaps madness is a genetic trait? Don't tell me that's why Roxas is here? Is it multiple-personality disorder, manic depression, paranoid schizophrenia, OCD, or some sort of brain damage? Mental retardation is a legitimate disorder; I wouldn't be surprised if he had it. It would explain a lot. There's no point in dwelling though. I've got enough problems to deal with. The last thing I want is to be saddled with someone else's insecurities.

Since mom wanted me to put the phone back (an out-of-place phone drives her nuts), I head downstairs and place it back in its cradle. Everywhere outside my room is domain to mom. Passing through my bedroom door is like crossing into an alternate dimension where everything is immaculate, meticulously groomed, organized, and cleaned. Her obsession with cleanliness and symmetry has turned my house into an Ikea showroom. Although my mom never formally admitted it to me, it was obvious she had OCD. It was easy to make the connection since I spent my youth with my nose in psychology literature. She was getting better though; she no longer raided my room for emergency cleaning sessions.

The sound of car engines and yelling catches my attention. I look outside and see a moving truck parked in the neighbor's driveway. Roxas is on the porch, observing the process of unloading rather intently.

"What's got your attention?" He jumps from my sudden question, and I smile, congratulating myself on a job well done.

"Dude, you scared the crap out of me." He turns to the truck. "It looks like there's new people moving in."

"Yeah, the house beside us has been vacant for weeks. Somebody finally bought it."

"You think they're from out of town?"

I glance at the truck and ignore the men in overalls carrying furniture into the house. There's a man and a woman, probably a married couple, supervising the unloading. They weren't native. Even though their clothes were stylish enough to pass off as chic, they didn't show enough skin. If you're not showing off your body, you're not from the islands. "Yeah, definitely."

"Sweet," he whispers.

"Sweet?"

He turns to me with a conspiratorial smile. "You see that couple over there?"

"Yeah."

"They have a daughter. I only had a quick glance, but it was enough."

"Enough for what?"

He smiles stupidly in response. "Love, man! Love at first sight!"

If only a palm tree would fall on my face right now for the ultimate face palm. I settle with a disbelieving shake of my head. He can't be serious. 90% of all "love at first sight" situations came down to looks, so I ask the obvious, "Was she that pretty?"

"An 11."

"Wow, enough to break the scale?"

"Definitely." My sarcasm is lost on this fool. "So you're going to help me, right?"

"With what?"

"You know, help me with the girl."

I laugh. "How so?"

"We walk over there, knock on the door, and welcome her to Destiny Islands. You can be my wing man, make me look good in front of her. It's a tag-team strategy! But you're the pro, so if you got something better, you should totally do that instead."

I'm the pro? It seems yesterday's encounter has left my cousin with an egregious misconception. Should I help him or not? If I help him and fail, at least he'll realize the true nature of my game. Since my father said to look after him, I might as well do it. Who knows? It might be a spectacular show. There's something comforting about seeing a guy crash and burn, especially someone as obnoxious as Roxas. "Alright, I'm game. Let's go."

"Seriously?" I walk off the porch and head towards the neighbors. "Wait up!"

Since the parents are outside, I decide to approach them first. It would be kind of weird to target their daughter outright. What would that say about our intentions? The man is dressed in loose fitting clothes; a collar shirt unbuttoned at the top, with a spiky red mane of hair that fit perfectly with the island style. The wilder, crazier, and more outlandish the hair, the more in vogue. The woman, despite the hot summer, wore a suit with a white shirt and tie. Wavy reddish-brown hair draped her shoulders. The heat didn't seem to bother her; no sweat was visible.

"Hi!" I say, catching their attention.

"Hello there, are you the neighbors?" the man greets in return.

I nod. "Yeah, we are. Just wanted to say hello and welcome you guys to Destiny Islands. My name is Sora, and this is my cousin Roxas. We live next door." I offer my hand for a shake, which goes smoothly with the man, but I hesitate with the woman. After taking a deep breath, I went through with it and shook her hand firmly. Need I remind you of my condition? The woman was attractive and if she was younger, my body would've went into Defcon 5. The severity of my condition correlates strongly with age. The older the woman, the less it affects me. Old ladies don't affect me at all, and the same goes for small girls. The girls most age-appropriate for me are ironically the worst. You know you're screwed when your choices are limited to cradle-robbing or hunting MILFs.

"Very nice to meet you, I'm Reno Uchida, and this is my wife, Cissnei."

"Nice to meet you. Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"We're from Radiant Garden," Cissnei answers.

"Wow, that's pretty far, isn't it?" Roxas says.

"It is, but when you have the opportunity to move to _the _Destiny Islands, it's hard to pass it up," Reno says, laughing. "How old are you guys?" From greetings to our age. What a curious leap of logic.

"Fifteen," we chorus.

"What a coincidence, same age as Kairi," Cissnei remarks. That must be their daughter.

"She could really use some friends around her age," Reno says. "If you guys don't mind, why don't you come in the house and say hi? Moving is always harder on the kids. It's tough saying goodbye to friends. Can you guys could do me a favor and keep her some company before school starts? Ease her into island life." That was easy. Parental obstacles cleared.

"You can count on us!" Roxas shouts.

I plaster a stupid grin on my face, for appearance's sake, and make my way towards the house. I stand on the porch and my cousin gives me a weird look. "What are you waiting for? Knock on the door," I order.

He rubs the back of his head nervously. "Just let me... build some confidence first." How transparent do you have to be? "It may come natural to you, but I need some time to organize my thoughts. You only get one chance to make a good first impression. I don't want her to think I'm creepy or anything."

"As if standing in front of her porch trying to gather courage isn't creepy already." At least by Destiny Islands standards. It's probably normal everywhere else. They're both from out of town, so it cancels out. "Let's just get this over with. This is a first meeting, not a date. Be friendly."

He takes a deep breath. "Okay."

_Knock, knock, knock!_

The door opens to reveal a girl, a startlingly beautiful and pretty girl. My vision begins to blur and I can feel a blackout coming. My head gets light and my cousin's voice starts distorting.

"HiIII… my NAMee…RoXas, and this... SORAAA!"

Fight it! Hold on to that consciousness! All my progress, don't let me down now! I have to get out of here. Run, run, move your legs! It's like it's stuck in tar. I can feel the girl's presence pressing down on me like a thick blanket of molasses. She's flooding my senses. Clear your mind, Sora! Flush it all out and concentrate! With every last bit of focus, I shoot off the porch and scramble madly towards my home before Roxas can finish his introduction.

My stomach twists in a torrent of churning. I can taste the bile at the back of my throat threatening to erupt. Forget the bathroom! I run towards the side alley where my mom's flowerbed resides, and proceed to dump this morning's breakfast into it. My knees dig into the soil as I hunch over and heave the contents of my stomach, spewing undigested food over irises and carnations. My body is wracked with wicked spasms and contractions. This is unpleasant no matter how many times I go through it. Such a shame I broke my record. It's been 7 months, 5 days, 6 hours, and 24 minutes since my last hurl. I had a good run.

"Damn! Are you alright?" Roxas asks worriedly.

The acrid taste of stomach acid lingers in my mouth. I wipe my lips, getting rid of lines of saliva and puke. "Yeah... I'm okay. Probably ate something bad."

"Horrible timing then, so much for good first impressions..."

"Oh yeah, how did that go?" I ask, breathing heavily.

"I excused myself and ran after you. She looked pretty surprised. Probably thinks we're a couple of weirdoes now."

"Just as well. You gonna go back and explain things to her?" I lean against the house wall.

Roxas steadies me with his hand. "What about you?"

"I'll clean myself up. I'm still feeling a little sick."

"Alright. Hope you feel better, man. I haven't seen a yak like that since _The__ Exorcist_!"

"Funny."

"Couldn't resist. I'm gonna go square things with Kairi now. I'll make an excuse for you."

"Why bother? You're the one gunning for her, aren't you?"

"True…"

"Just say I couldn't stand the sight of her," I suggest.

He laughs. "Whatever you say, man. I'm off."

So… what the hell was _that_ all about?

Never, in the history of my condition, have I had a reaction as extreme as the one I just had. Usually it's physical contact that reduces me to retching, not a mere glance. Over the years, I've identified that certain features affect me more than others. Specific colors and hair styles multiply in effectiveness. It's not because of personal preference on my part; it's just a reaction to a specific trigger, like an allergy.

But this girl, her face, her body, her entire being was a complete summary of all my allergies: short auburn hair that splashed like an autumn pile of leaves, deep purple eyes that could penetrate the deepest depths of the oceans, round cheeks that shined like the moon, soft alabaster skin that glowed like the stars, pink lips that begged to be kissed, and a gentle smile that could stop wars.

She is…

The worst possible girl for my health.

A true-blue weapon of mass destruction.

What a nightmare.


	6. Musings

**Chapter 6: Musings**

"Check it out."

Roxas holds out his cell phone, but the screen is obscured by glare. I can't see what he's trying to show me.

"What is it?"

"Just look," he urges. Suspicious... but this is Roxas, anything suspicious is just a precursor to dumb.

I glance at the screen—and immediately regret it. I cover my mouth and fake a cough, "_Ahem, agghkk!_" I manage to swallow it back. I almost freakin' threw up there.

I can't believe it. This girl was breaking all the rules. It's a picture of Kairi, a candid shot from the looks of it. That a photo could cause me to cough up bile—there's no precedent for it! I've studied photography extensively. It was a regimen derived from the old saying, "what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." Unfortunately, my condition is entirely perceptual. I thought I could desensitize myself to girls by studying their pictures. I know what you're thinking, but it was purely for the purpose of self-improvement, honest!

No matter how many pictures I looked at, my mind knew better. The same goes for movies, books, and dating sims. I've watched, read, and played things I'm not proud of, but it was all in hopes of finding a cure. As a side effect, I've gotten frightfully good at picking up flags and good endings. It's not like I can apply these skills to real life. The second I get close to a girl, it's like being pulled apart by a contradiction. I feel pressure so heavy, I can sink into the ground; at the same time it feels like I'm floating in space.

There's no point in learning pick-up lines, knowing the right things to say, or the perfect gifts to give if I can't even perform the simple act of _looking_ at a girl without dying. No imitation can fool me. Only the real deal can get my heart pounding and my stomach churning—until now. I've collected a wealth of research material over the years, and none of them were as effective as Roxas' cell phone image. Who is this Kairi and why is she screwing with my body when she's not even here?

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Roxas says, cutting into my thoughts. He seems to have fallen hard for our neighbor.

"I like the framing, very voyeur."

His face reddens. "I can't ask her for a picture. We just met." I wonder about that. It can't be coincidence that Kairi possesses the perfect mix of all traits that turn me inside out. Is it possible that I've met her before? My list of allergies couldn't have come about arbitrarily. If there's one thing I've learned from psychology, it's to never underestimate the power of childhood trauma. It's the root cause of 90% of all character flaws, insecurities, moral failings, and mental disorders.

I know my condition has a source, and the chances that she has something to do with that source is extremely high by virtue of her outstanding effect on me. She requires investigation, which will be extremely tough since I can hardly hold on to my consciousness around her. She's like the boss who wipes out your entire party in the beginning of a RPG. I need to level up before I dig too deep and end up burying myself. The past few years have been baby steps for me. I suppose it's time to run.

Although Roxas' chances of courting Kairi are slim, he will at least become friends with her, and when they become friends, she will be hanging around me more, and I won't be safe in my own home. Damn you, Roxas. I shouldn't underestimate him though. The words from my father still bother me. Who knows what kind of secret he's carrying? What if Roxas was some kind of killer, or even worse, a lady killer?

Nah, not likely.

"I'm gonna visit her today. Can you come with me?" he asks. What are you, a kid?

"You need somebody to hold your hand?"

He chuckles. "You've lived here your whole life, right? I don't know anything about this place. Me and Kairi are in the same boat. I was hoping you could show us both around."

Solidarity against a common enemy, birds of a feather flock together. I have to credit Roxas for his cleverness. It's a great way to cultivate common ground, using the fact that they're both new to Destiny Islands. But what's in it for me? I can't even stand her, and I mean that literally. I will collapse within five feet of her. Then again…

Roxas is the only person that I can use to interface with her. Unless my condition improves dramatically in the next few days, I'm going to have to rely on him to learn anything about her. What a pain. It looks like I have no choice but to help him. "Alright, I'll help you out."

He smiles broadly. "Great! Thanks a lot."

"Let me get a couple of things first." I run upstairs to my room and start looking for my shades. I thumb through several drawers until I find them. They were pitch black, dark enough that even in direct sunlight, you still wouldn't be able to see my eyes. I put them on and look at myself in the mirror. All I need is a cane and dog and I'll be a blind man. With these on, I could avoid looking at her, and since dark sunglasses are stylishly tacky, it should keep her away. Nothing repels girls like bad fashion sense. Speaking of fashion, Roxas could use a little help. Not to criticize Twilight Town style or anything, but he looks abysmal. "I need you to come up here," I tell him.

"What is it?"

"You're thinking of seeing her wearing _that_? You're better off wearing a burlap sack."

"They don't look _that_ bad… do they?" Yes, they do. I wouldn't point it out if they weren't _that_ bad.

I go back into my room and rummage through the closet. I pull out an outfit that I was saving for a special occasion, the day I'm finally cured. It's the only set of clothes I own that wasn't plainer than white bread. It's a short-sleeved sweater with a royal motif, made up of black, red, and gold. The material was richly textured, comfortable, and made me look damn good. I would wear it, but I wouldn't be able to handle the attention it would give me. I know it sounds conceited, but even one extra set of female eyes on me is one set too many. It's a knightly garb if I do say so myself.

And now Roxas is wearing it. "Whoa, is this really me?" he cries out, looking in the mirror.

"We need to get you a new wardrobe. I can't have you wearing my clothes every time you need to look nice."

He gives me an apologetic look. "Sorry, it's just for today."

"I know, it was my idea anyways. Let's head on over." We leave the house.

"Can I ask you one thing?" he lets out uncertainly.

"What is it?"

"What's with the shades?"

I smile. "It's an island thing. Don't worry about it. Today is your day. Don't mind me." If it looks goofy enough that even Roxas notices, it bodes well for Kairi's impression of me. While Roxas was decked out in nice threads, I donned my usual outfit, a plain white T and khaki shorts. It was only a couple minutes until we reached her doorstep. He knocks on the door.

The moment it opens, I close my eyes. Despite the darkness, the mental image of Kairi flashes in my mind. It's enough to make my heart skip.

"Hi Roxas! Oh, and you must be…" Although I can't see, I'm sure it's Kairi who's speaking. Even her voice makes my spine tingle. Hold it together, man.

"Sora," I supply.

"Ah, that's right. Roxas told me about you. I hope you're feeling better now." I'm melting here. There's something about a voice that can tickle the imagination senseless. On a phone, it doesn't matter if she's hot or not, a sexy voice is sexy. Her voice was pitch perfect, not too high and squeaky, and not too low and husky. I dread to think of what would happen if she blew in my ear.

I nod blankly. "I am, thanks for worrying."

"Why don't you guys come on in?" she invites.

I follow Roxas' footsteps and enter the house safely. I'm vulnerable. I can only hear voices and feel air currents. If I'm not careful, I can walk into a wall.

"Be careful, the place is still a mess." Too late. I trip and fall flat on my chest. Hardly two steps and I'm already on the ground. This was going to be the start of a very long day. "Oh my god, are you okay?" Her footsteps draw close and I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's a tender and supple hold. I could feel the warmth from her slender fingers seeping through the thin material of my shirt.

It burns.

I jolt upright and her hand slips off. "I'm okay. I've had worst falls than this," I say disarmingly. I run a hand through my damp hair. Just a single touch and I'm already sweating like a pig.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I guess I should've cleaned up earlier."

"I probably would've fallen even without the mess, at least this way; I have an excuse." I'm running blind here; my words are truer than they sound.

I hear her giggle. Am I high right now? Even her giggles are making me delirious. "Why don't you guys take a seat on the couch? I'll get you something to drink." Her steps move away from me. Thank you. I don't think I can stand up much longer.

I open my eyes and take in the living room. The couch sits across from the TV. There's a coffee table in front of the couch and a couple loveseats parked around the sides. Boxes and luggage cases litter the place. I let out a breath. Just take a seat and keep your eyes shut.

"Would like some soda? Or maybe juice?" she asks.

"Just gimme coke," Roxas says.

"Water for me." I lock my gaze on the couch and successfully take a seat. It's comfortable. My ass sinks into the cushion like a beanbag. I feel a nudge on my arm.

"Dude, what was that about?" he whispers to me. "Is falling over an island thing too?" I can sense the stupid grin on his face. You're so funny, Roxas! Why don't you just shut up?

"It's called contrast. If she sees how clumsy I am compared to you, she'll think you're the one with poise."

"You did that on purpose?" Of course not.

"All for your benefit."

"You _are_ a real pro. You sure had me fooled." It takes a fool to be fooled, and you're the most foolish of them all.

"Here are your drinks!" Kairi cuts in.

"Oh, thank you," my cousin replies.

I know that Kairi is holding something for me, but I can't risk opening my eyes. So I ignore her and pretend I don't see anything.

"Uh… are you going to take the cup?" she wonders.

I put on my best smile. "You know, I'm feeling a little uncoordinated right now. You can leave it on the coffee table."

I hear Roxas snicker.

"Okay." She sets the cup down. "So… what now, guys?"

Nobody says anything. The ball's in your court Roxas. "Uh… I was thinking… maybe we could go check out the town a little bit? Since we're both new here."

"Hmm… I don't really feel like going out though. I'm still a little jet-lagged." Shot down before take off. You got no lift, man.

"Oh… I guess not then?" His disappointment is way too obvious.

"…"

The silence is unnerving, especially when I can't see anything.

"…"

Does anybody have anything to say? Just a sentence, a word, _anything_.

"…"

This is so awkward.

"…"

You are such a failure, Roxas.

"Is the TV connected?" I ask loudly, breaking the silence.

"Just the antennae. There's no cable or anything." Good. It's a starting point.

"You guys…" I make a show of looking between them. I can make a reasonable guess at their location using their voices. "…have never seen Destiny Islands programming, have you?" I assume they're shaking their heads since I don't hear anything. "TV here is a little different than in other places. Can somebody turn on the TV?"

"The remote's in front of you," she answers plainly.

"Roxas, if you will."

"Oh, sure." I feel him leaning close. "Is this also part of your plan?"

"Just go with it," I whisper back. I have no clue what I'm doing, but I do know one thing: I have to get rid of the silence. Nothing like TV noise to drown out the awkwardness.

The TV springs to life and starts producing sweet commercial sound. This must be why they play music at clubs or leave the sports channel on at a bar. People like noise. It makes them comfortable.

"What's so special about the TV here?" Kairi asks.

"There are only two kinds of shows here: sci-fi and fantasy."

It's not because we're nerds. This is Destiny Islands, the place where everything is beautiful, from the people, the beaches, the buildings, and everything in between. To most people, TV is fake. Surely, nobody can be _that_ beautiful, there can't _really_ be such picturesque locations, and people don't _really_ act like that in real life. Unfortunately, you'd be wrong on all accounts. It _is_ real, and it's called Destiny Islands. The only reason why anybody would want to watch TV is to _escape_ life, not see it reflected back at us. Which is why every show produced on Destiny Islands has to be even more fantastic than reality, and what can be more fantastic than sci-fi or fantasy?

"So basically… every show has magic or robots." She nailed it.

"I don't know whether to think that's awesome or weird," says Roxas.

"Why not both?" Kairi laughs. Is this what they call "chemistry?" Are they actually engaging in conversation? Hallelujah!

"Back in Twilight Town, everybody watched crime dramas."

"Really? In Radiant Garden, it's all sappy soap operas."

Somehow, this whole situation feels like a dream. Maybe it's because Roxas can actually hold a conversation with a cute girl, maybe it's because my eyes are closed, or maybe, just maybe, because it _is_ one. I'm afraid that if I open my eyes, this dream might turn into a nightmare.

"Sora, do you know what this show is called?" she asks.

"Huh?"

"She's asking you about the show," Roxas clarifies—like I needed clarification. I heard it just fine. I train my ears on the show and try to figure it out from the sound. I don't recognize the music or any of the sound effects, but one voice does stick out, an angelic voice that flows through the ears like wind on velvet.

"Chain of Memories." The voice belongs to the main actress, Stella Star. She plays a witch who wants to be popular by using her powers to tamper with her fellow student's memories—often with disastrous and hilarious results. She has become an icon for the youth, which is quite a feat considering our culture.

"Is she the main character? She's quite beautiful," Kairi observes. Stella Star is instantly recognizable for her long wavy brunette locks, bright emerald eyes, pale milky skin, and slender figure. "Sora, I'm curious about something."

"What is it?" My sunglasses suddenly shift and I open my eyes on reflex.

She's staring right at me. "Are you blind?" she teases. My shades are hanging off her fingers.

I turn away immediately and get off the couch. "Where is your bathroom?" I ask quickly.

"Oh, it's down the hall to the right."

"Thanks," I gasp.

I try not to run but walk with a brisk pace until I reach my destination. I lift open the toilet seat and prepare myself.

One.

Two.

Three.

**ARGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH.**

…

…

…

Horrible.

Just horrible.

I spit out the remnants and flush the toilet. I go over to the sink, cup my hand underneath the faucet, and splash my mouth a couple times. The air tastes sour. I reach into my pockets and pull out a mini-Lysol spray can. I always keep one on me in case of emergencies. I squeeze the cap for a few short bursts of flowery freshness, enough to cover up the smell.

I put my back against the bathroom door and slide down, leaning my head against my knees. This is impossible. She's too powerful. I'm not strong enough to resist. I'm a weak and wretched existence. Is a little mercy too much to ask for?

"You okay? You've been in there for awhile." How nice of you to be concerned, Roxas. Could you do me a favor and get us out of here already?

"I'm… good. You know, I think I've done for today. You two seem to have a good vibe going. I'll leave you two alone."

"Whoa, hey! You can't do that. I still need your help!"

I hate you. I really do. I stand up, open the door, and hold on to his shoulders firmly. "Roxas, you have to do this by your own power. This is just the beginning. All you have to do is be friendly. Don't reveal any intentions, and be comfortable. Act like your normal idiotic self around her and she'll fall for you guaranteed."

"You really think so?" I'm surprised my not-so-subtle jab escaped him. Must be a side effect of "love."

"Of course. Now go get her!" While I get out of here. I power walk my way towards the door with my head down.

"Are you heading out now?" she says, stopping me.

"Yeah."

"Before you go…" I see her feet in front of me. "Here."

In her hand are my sunglasses. I snatch it quickly and put it on. "Thank you." I walk to the door and pause for a moment. "To answer your question, no, I'm not blind. It's just… you're way too bright for me."

Escape successful.


	7. Advice

**Chapter 7: Advice**

I am living in a hostile environment.

The world outside is crawling with beautiful but dangerous creatures. Their weapons against me are numerous; whether by sight, sound, smell, or touch, they can reduce me to a quivering blubbering mess. Mere proximity triggers the symptoms. My head gets dizzy, my body gets numb, my stomach gets queasy, and my mind gets dumb. My senses are stolen away, leaving me to stumble about blindly, deaf, and without feeling.

These creatures are called "girls." And the most dangerous of them all happens to live next to me. Even worse, she's walking beside me right now.

Despite my best efforts to dodge her, I couldn't avoid a walk to school together. They needed me to show them the way, and by they, I mean Roxas and Kairi. That's right, school has officially begun.

I can't say I'm looking forward to it. It's the only place where I'm forced to be around girls, which makes school life a little difficult. How am I supposed to learn if I feel like throwing up all the time? At least Destiny High doesn't care about academics as much as it does about social performance. An economy based on services, hospitality, fashion, and entertainment demands few thinkers and more lookers. I still want to get good grades though. While the standards for getting into college are low around here, the same can't be said for elsewhere.

I have a small dream, and that's to move out of Destiny Islands. Crazy, right? Why leave paradise on earth? Because the girls here are too beautiful. Paradise? More like hell. I want to get into a good school overseas. I have my eyes set on a quiet place called Traverse Town. I visited it once for vacation. It was one of the best times of my life. The people are quaint, homely, and most importantly, plain. I felt like I was _normal_ for once. Unfortunately, the only school there, Traverse Town University, has a rigorous admissions process. Because of my love sickness, I couldn't focus on school and did horrible in my freshmen year. I have a lot of ground to make up if I want any chance of escaping this island.

"Is this the right way?" Roxas asks.

I check my surroundings. We were in the middle of an alleyway, behind a restaurant flanked by dumpsters and garbage cans. It dawns on me that I was taking them through my "stealth" route," the path I usually take to avoid attention. I was absentmindedly ducking under broken fences, cutting through vacant lots, and jumping over railings without any heed to my sheep. I normally don't make such mistakes, but the presence of Kairi was screwing with my mind.

"This is a shortcut. If you don't like it, I could show you the 'regular' way to school," I offer. This "shortcut" actually took longer by three minutes. A small price to pay for stealth.

"You know this area better than us. We trust you," Kairi reassures.

I continue on, making sure to keep my head at a constant 45 degree angle away from her. Even in the periphery, she can still wreck me. As much as I want to close my eyes, I can't, not unless I want to risk injury. The stealth route has a lot of clutter and garbage in the way. I don't want a repeat of last time.

Good thing Roxas is between us. He finally claimed the title of "Kairi's friend," and he did it without my help—well, mostly. After my initial push, he performed admirably and required my assistance only a few times. When he begged me for advice, I would give him some spiel about independence and personal responsibility. I couldn't talk my way out of every invitation though, and I was forced to tag along on some outings. Each one was a gauntlet. I couldn't rely on my tricks; instead, I had to use raw guts and sheer willpower. Standing next to her is a five-minute sprint compressed into one second. I'm left gasping for breath and possibly puking in a toilet by the day's end. So I turned into batman—or at least acquired the abilities of a bat.

I've gotten pretty good at echolocation. Since I'm deathly afraid of opening my eyes, my other senses have sharpened to compensate. I could tell if its Kairi simply by the sound of her footsteps—heel first followed by a sliding sole. Roxas leads with his toes, like he's sneaking around all the time. Then there's the smell. I've developed a Pavlovian gag reflex towards her fruity shampoos, scented body wash, and perfumes. I start choking whenever I get a whiff. When I use my eyes, it's to look at her without actually _looking_ at her. I use shadows, silhouettes, reflections, and other environmental cues to determine her location. The only time I _see_ her is when I look at her photo. I got one for myself for the purpose of training—not _that_ kind of training, but desensitization training. My best record is fifteen seconds before keeling, an improvement over my first crack at it, which was an amazing half second.

I have to expend so much energy trying to keep myself together that I forget why I'm hanging out with her in the first place, which is to gather intel. The perfect spy is one who doesn't know he's one, which made Roxas was one hell of an agent. I hardly have to prod him before he starts spilling out every detail, extraneous or not, gleaned from their outings together. There's not much I can do with the knowledge that she likes the color pink, but the fact that she moved often in her childhood is telling. I pick up a few pieces here and there, but her profile is still incomplete.

With the start of school, I will once again be thrown in a cage filled with danger. I had big plans for the year, but the emergence of Kairi had torn a giant ozone-sized hole in the fabric of my reality.

"Is this it?" my cousin asks. We stand before a large complex with sleekly designed buildings. The rooftops are curved, shaped like waves, and undulate across the sky. Large windows act as walls, walkways connect the buildings together, and an open plaza sits before every hall. It looks like a college campus. Orange and blue dominate the paint.

If this wasn't a school, what else could it be? Besides, there's a sign that says "Destiny High Academy" on the brick wall that surrounds the main entrance. Learn to read. "Why yes, yes it is."

The place is sprawling with students dressed in everything but a uniform. Individuality matters. The school encourages self-expression through fashion. The more outlandish the outfit the better. It's the reason why every guy's hair is ridiculously styled. Island genes ensure maximum spikiness without need for gel. Example: me.

The high concentration of handsomeness and hotness left my two charges speechless. This was my everyday life, but for them, it was television realized. A beautiful backdrop? Check. Beautiful students? Check. Unnecessarily convoluted high school relationships filled with deceit, gossip, and drama? You bet.

"Why does everybody look so... **good**?" Kairi says in disbelief. Have you looked in the mirror, Kairi? You own every girl here by virtue of owning me.

"Welcome to Destiny Islands, where shallow is deep." I point to the tables set up by the school entrance. "That's where we have to go to pick up our schedules." The tables are organized by last name. "Hikari, Uchida, and McCartney. We're all in different lines. Let's meet back here after you pick them up. I'll tell you where your rooms are." We split up.

I get in line and pray for a favorable schedule. A couple minutes pass when somebody bumps into me from behind.

"Eek, sorry bout that," the girl apologizes.

She touched me. I stare at her dumbly, waiting for a reaction that never arrives. Instead of spitting out my breakfast, I feel only mild irritation. Is this... progress? Had Kairi desensitized me?

"Next!"

I turn around and walk up to the table. "Sora Hikari."

The administrator thumbs through the schedules as I bounce my foot up and down. Strange. The girl was quite beautiful but her effect on me was minimal. She barely registered an eye twitch. Just goes to show that Kairi is way too bright. Looking at her is like staring into the sun. Everything else is dim by comparison. If Kairi was a star, then the girl behind me was a night light, but even night lights can blind given the right circumstances.

"There you go," says the administrator. He hands me a white card.

"Thank you." I grab it and head over to the meeting spot. None of them are here yet. I hope they didn't get lost. I take a look at my schedule:

English: Holland

History: Lockhart

Math: Trepe

Science: Branford

Health: Heartily

PE: Farron

Is the world against me? These are all female teachers! This does not bode well for my grades. Any counselor with half a brain should be able to tell that I do worse in classes with female teachers. It's not that I don't pay attention, it's because I _can't_.

Teachers at Destiny High aren't just role models, they also happen to be real ones, of the super fashionable kind. Call it a byproduct of a demented culture. While they're goalposts for the students, they're a complete distraction for me. I can't learn if I'm spending all my energy trying to keep my stomach in check. Rather than suffer such an exhausting ordeal, I ignore them—hence, my bad grades.

"We're back!" Kairi announces loudly.

My head stays fixed on the schedule. "Give me your cards," I command.

Making sure not to see any part of Kairi other than her hand (which manages to speed up my pulse anyways), I take their cards and turn it over. On the back of each schedule is a map. With a pocket pen, I circle all the rooms they have to go to.

I don't share any classes with them. Thank god for the small breaks. "Here," I say, handing them back their cards. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to class."

"Wait up; aren't you going to show us where they are?" Roxas pleads.

"Can't you read a map?" I take his card and make a giant X. "This is where we are. Figure out the rest yourself."

Before they can say anything, I lose them in the crowd. Fantastic, I haven't lost my touch. Disappearing on command is still in my repertoire. I know I'm acting like an ass, but old habits die hard. Kairi has forced me to regress to my earlier form. None of my techniques work. My only option is to stay away from her. I'm sure Roxas is making excuses on my behalf. Perhaps it's better if she thinks I hate her. If I stayed with them, I'd be forced to give them a tour. I can''t afford to waste time on the first day. I have recon work to do. Preparation is the key to success.

I find my room and enter. I've mastered the quiet entrance. The teacher doesn't even realize that I'm in the room. She's busy looking over papers. I take stock of my surroundings and find the best place to sit. The ideal location would give me a wide viewing while keeping me hidden. I determine that the best seat is second row from the back, next to the wall. It's in the most blind spots. I sit down and wait for class to start.

A shadow falls on me. "_Excuse me... but you're in my seat_." I look up and see... a figure looming over me. If it wasn't for my enhanced hearing, I never would've been able to pick up the person's words. I thought I had imagined it for a moment. "_There's a seating chart..._" There is?

I stand up. "Sorry about that then." Odd. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl. Every inch was covered, even the hands by long sleeves. A hoodie covered the face, so I couldn't identify the person that way either. Forget it, the room's getting more crowded. The students pour in like champagne on New Years. If there's really a seating chart, where the heck is it?

"Alright class, please take your seat, and remember to follow the seating chart on the board," the teacher, Ms. Holland, instructs. My mind's not working well today. How could I have totally missed it? I hope it was first-day jitters and not PKSD (Post-Kairi Stress Disorder).

I look at the board. Are you kidding me? I'm seated directly in front of the room. This situation might've been tolerable if I sat in the back, away from imminent danger, but no, I'm seated in front of my number one weakness.

Aqua Holland, the cyan-haired English teacher who is more like cyanide to me, is one pretty woman. Don't be surprised if I start frothing at the mouth in seizures. Though girls at my age are most effective, there's something about a young woman that drives me bonkers, and every female teacher here falls under that category. I'm glad that they'll never take me seriously as a love interest since I'm a student. The thought of any adult woman approaching me makes my mind explode.

Ms. Holland is dressed in a white blouse that cuts off at the sleeves, revealing her slender arms. I can see the outline of her bra against the white fabric. I avert my gaze; my stomach's starting to act up. I settle into my seat. This is just for one period. I can deal with it.

To my left is a girl.

To my right is another one.

And behind me—you've guessed it—another one.

In front of me, the teacher.

I'm surrounded.

It's not really as bad as I thought. Don't get me wrong, I still feel noxious, slightly dizzy, and weak at the knees, but nowhere near knocked out. Is this a side effect of Kairi? I've heard of the concept before, using poison to fight poison, but why did treatment have to be so painful? Just to make sure things don't get any worse, I close my eyes. The teacher goes through the introductory motions and goes over things like the syllabus, grading scale, future assignments, and behavioral expectations. "For instance, I expect all of you to pay absolute attention when I'm speaking. I don't want to see anybody sleeping in class, especially if you sit in the front row. Sora, why aren't you paying attention?" Okay, so closing my eyes wasn't a bright idea.

"Sorry, but I'm too distracted right now," I excuse.

"By what?"

"You." The entire class erupts into snickers. Flirting with a teacher isn't an exceptional occurrence here—hell, it's almost encouraged. It's an educational exercise. As a valuable skill on Destiny Islands, any practice is good practice. Besides, why would the teacher go for _boys_ when they could go for** real men**—the male teachers?

Surprisingly, she turns red, caught off guard by my answer. Red, white, and blue—very patriotic. She must be new. "Ahem, as flattering as that is, please try your best to focus."

"I'll try." I look down at my desk. Okay, so I can't close my eyes, but I can't look up either. I reach into my backpack and pull out my notebook. Why didn't I think of this before? Just write notes. And that's how I spent first period, with my head down pretending to write notes.

On to the next class: History.

Ms. Tifa Lockhart is a veteran, and as such, doesn't even bat an eyelash when the entire class is blatantly staring at her chest. None of the guys dare to go much further than that since it's well known that she practices boxing, and the last guy who dared to touch her got knocked out in a single punch. The size of her biceps are alarmingly sexy and threatening, a combination I'm all too familiar with. I don't dare to lay my eyes on the buxom dark-haired woman.

I once read that the chances of a person being struck by lightning twice are a lot higher than being struck once. Something about changing sample sizes and statistical magic increases the odds. That might explain why I am once again seated at the front surrounded by girls. Even though I don't believe in fate, it sure has a twisted sense of humor. I do the same thing as last period and concentrate on writing notes, even if there's not much to write about on the first day. Anything to keep me distracted.

I walk out of second period in a daze. There's always that moment of disorientation after you pull your head out of a book, TV, or portable game. The world overwhelms you and you need some time to take it all in. It's nutrition break, and I need some nutrients, stat. I stumble around the hallway until I bump into Roxas. He's talking to another guy. That was quick; he already made a friend. "There you are, Sora!"

"What's up? Who's your new buddy?" He's a nervous-looking blond wearing a dark gray vest. I say nervous because his face, which was probably used to smiling, shows wrinkles even with a straight expression.

"This is Hayner. We met last period," Roxas introduces. He and Kairi shared second period together. Is this another suitor?

"You have your heart set on Kairi?" I accuse.

"No, it's nothing like that," Roxas rebuffs. "He needs some help with a girl he likes. I told him about you so..." Whoa, Roxas is bringing me clients now? This misconception has gotten outta control.

"So you're looking for advice?" Hayner nods weakly. I might as well entertain him. But first, "How exactly did you two meet?"

"I saw Roxas walk in with Kairi and uh... he looked like a guy who knew what he was doing," Hayner explained. Wow, that's an even worse misconception than the previous one. "We sat next to each other, and we just kind of... talked. He told me about you." I can believe that. Roxas had that kind of personality. I'm not sure if it's a product of his past or if he's just a nosy guy. I didn't expect him to be telling strangers about me though. The anonymity I built for myself is now crumbling, all thanks to the marketing efforts of my "disciple."

"Who's the girl?" I shouldn't be doing this, but it's hard to pass up an opportunity to give advice. Maybe all the stuff I learned could be put to better use by guys who don't throw up at the sight of girls. I can be sitting on a potential goldmine here.

"Her name is Olette. We've known each other ever since we were little." Where have I heard this story before? Childhood friends becoming future lovers... as great as it sounds, it doesn't happen that often in real life.

"How long have you known her?"

"Since elementary school?"

"How old were you when you first met?" I clarify.

"Is it that important?"

"Extremely."

"I guess... seven? Why, does it matter?"

Time to shed some wisdom. "Seven is cutting it close. It's borderline really. The odds are stacked against you."

"Really?" Fear settles in his eyes.

"It's called the Westermarck Effect. It's reverse sexual imprinting." Their mouths open like toads about to catch a fly. At the mention of the word "sexual," more than a few guys stop to listen. We exchange a look. "Let's go somewhere more private."

"I agree," they chorus.

We move outside the hall and into the plaza. We find a nice shady spot under the trees. "Reverse sexual imprinting," I start, capturing their attention without fail, "is the reason why brothers and sisters are brothers and sisters. If a relationship starts between the ages of one and six, feelings of love are strictly platonic. There are outliers, of course, but for them, it's like… incest."

"Whoa, hey, Olette isn't my sister!" I know. Leap of logic much?

"I never said she was. Although it's clear that you like her in a romantic sense, it's possible that she likes you in a platonic 'you're-like my-brother' sense."

His face crumbles spectacularly. "Then... I have no chance?" How on earth did you come to that conclusion? Did you even listen to me?

"No, I'm saying it's all or nothing. She either already likes you, or she will never like you in the way you like her. My advice? Just tell her how you feel. You're fifty-fifty."

"Is this Westermarck Effect thing for real?" Roxas butts in.

Yes. It is. "Look it up if you don't believe me."

"I see... thanks. That makes things a lot clearer for me then." Hayner sighs. "I guess I won't tell her."

"I just told you that you had a fifty-fifty chance. In the world of probability, that's pretty damn good."

"I can't. If I confess and she doesn't feel the same, it'll screw up our relationship forever," he explains.

"Sorry to tell you this, but you already screwed up your relationship by liking her. The longer you let this linger, the worse it gets for you in the long run. You got two choices here. One choice has 0% chance of success, and the other has 50% chance of success. In the long run, it's fifty-fifty that you'll end up regretting whatever decision you make anyways. You got nothing to lose." They give me blank stares. "I'm just telling you the numbers. Whatever you want to do with them is your business," I finish.

I'm hungry. I need a snack.

"Hold up," Roxas says, moving in front of me. What a rare display of assertiveness.

"What is it?"

"What you've said... was probably one of the most persuasive arguments I've ever heard in my life. I was just wondering, what are my odds with Kairi?" Silly Roxas, stats are for kids!

"The same as any other guy in school—higher or lower depending on the fact that you already know her."

"Seriously? What happened to all your statistics?"

"Westermarck refers to a very specific situation. Yours is generic. You like the 'girl next door.' There are no probabilities for that. But look at it this way, you live next to her. That's advantage one. You're already friends with her. Advantage two. If you want advantage three, it's confidence. You either have it or you don't. So what does that mean when you come to me for help all the time?"

"That I lack confidence?"

"Exactly."

"Then teach me! Teach me how to be more confident like you." Ha! I'm not confident. I'm just trying to preserve my health in life-threatening situations. It's a fight-or-flight response. Once the adrenaline starts flowing, I just do what I have to do.

I used to insult girls, say things like they're ugly, fat, dumb, or all three—the trifecta of feminine offense, but that drew more attention than I wanted, so I moved on to ignorance. What Roxas saw was simply the next step of my program, a method of extrication that doesn't leave the other party thinking that I'm a complete asshole. It's not confidence that drives me; it's the unwavering desire to not throw up.

Wait.

I think Roxas is on to something here—if inadvertently.

It doesn't have to be _real_ confidence, it just has to look like it. The incident at the beach with Rikku must've been the emergence of latent talents developed by my condition. Perhaps all those years of research, reading to understand the female mind, watching all those sappy soap operas, and playing all those dating sims have given me the blueprint to savvy. Combine all that with my knowledge of relationships and psychology and I might actually be a doctor of love. I might not be able execute the gameplan, but I can give it to those who need it.

Ridiculous. What am I thinking? I can't even look a girl in the face.

"Confidence is... being comfortable with who you are. If you act like yourself, you don't have to pretend. So my assignment to you is, be yourself around girls. If it's hard to do that with Kairi, then do it with some other girl." I don't know if it's good advice, but I've read enough articles on dating to hear that line being trumpeted like it was a fundamental fact of life: just be yourself. "So practice. Find someone and be _Roxas_."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "You're... a _true master_. It's weird. You say things that make complete sense, so much so that it should be obvious to me, but it's not. I'm gonna follow your advice. Thanks a lot." His grateful look stirs up something odd in me. I can't tell if I'm feeling glad or if I'm feeling shame.

A master?

Yeah, that's probably right.

But a master of what?

That's what I'm still trying to figure out.


	8. Again

**Chapter 8: Again**

Tis a strange feeling.

Like giving a homeless man your leftovers. A generous act, but one without much dignity. It's almost shameful. I don't know if the advice I gave Roxas would sustain him, or if it would kill him.

Life is a never-ending search for answers. I've been trying to find mine for as long as I can remember. Whether it's "right" or "wrong" doesn't matter, all we need is something to hold onto—a wish, a prayer, a hope, a dream. Even if my words are steering my cousin towards certain destruction, he has something that he didn't before: direction. Is the act of giving him purpose, whether for good or ill, not noble in itself? What am I saying? He'll just have to take whatever he can get.

The bell rings, signaling the end of nutrition break. I didn't even get a chance to eat. I shoot him a dirty look, which he returns with an apologetic one. Sorry, but apologies don't fill my stomach. It's not that I get cranky when I'm hungry, or that I'm failing to meet a basic survival need, it's because eating is the difference between a dry heave and a good one. Not all heaves are equal. There's nothing worse than throwing up nothing. To compensate for lack of substance, the body tries to expel anything on an empty stomach—even if it's just air. With food in the gut, the whole process is quicker, more efficient, and less painful.

That's what I hate about school: the restrictions. Dangers are everywhere but safety measures are limited. I can't eat whenever I want and bathroom breaks require permission. If I get into a bad spot, that's it for me. I've memorized the location of every bathroom and every trashcan because of this. The state of my stomach is unacceptable. I have to eat something before class starts. I check the time. Five minutes—enough for a detour.

I jog to the nearest vending machine and check my choices. It's lacking the expected assortment of candy, chocolate bars, and other sweet snacks one would expect. Instead, there are fruits, vegetables, energy bars, and even vitamin tablets. The school wants the student body on a lean diet, and the administration just doesn't like fat people. It's bad for business. I insert change and grab myself a bag of carrots. I throw a couple into my mouth and make it to class right on time. I'm greeted with a loud **CRACK** that makes me jump.

"Get in your seat! Class starts in approximately ten seconds," orders Ms. Quistis Trepe, my blonde algebra teacher. She snaps her leather whip in threatening fashion. Yes. You didn't hear wrong. She has a whip.

Schools traditionally have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to weapons, but Destiny High is more lenient on the matter. As long as it isn't _too_ dangerous, any "prop" furnished for the purpose of fashion is A-okay. Whether it's a giant buster sword or a gunblade, if you look good holding it, it's perfectly fine. Permits are required, so there _is_ a degree of regulation. The students have embraced their freedom and go to school wearing all sorts of crazy shit. In encouraging a more diverse and unique campus, the policy is a resounding success. Every day is like an anime convention, except everybody cosplays as_themselves_. We wouldn't want school to be boring now, would we?

I eye the whip warily. I don't want to be known as the guy who got whipped on the first day of class. Any addition to my reputation, no matter how small, is unwelcome. I waste no time looking a seat, preferably one outside of whipping range. I make a beeline towards the back.

**CRACK!**

I felt the wind on that one.

"Where do you think you're going?" she says, stopping me. She adjusts her glasses with a rigid finger.

"To find a seat?" I answer tentatively.

"Your seat's right here," she reveals, pointing at a desk up front. "Please sit down, Mr. Hikari."

"Oh..." I really thought that third time would be the charm, but I seem fated to sit in front of every class. Wait, did she just say my name? How did she know?

"Process of elimination," she says. What the? Is she responding to my thoughts? "You're probably thinking about how I knew your name, correct?" My shocked face is enough of an answer. "I pride myself in knowing everything at all times. I know every student in this class from the previous year except for you. To think that someone could elude me... it's unacceptable. I will keep a close eye on you, Mr. Hikari. We're going to learn a _lot_ about each other this year." She grins maliciously.

Shit. I've been marked. Just my luck. I've drawn a control freak for my math class. As if I didn't have enough of that at home. My mom has OCD, remember? They're the type to maintain a strict balance. Failure to preserve equilibrium results in cognitive readjustment. For my mom, this means distracting herself with gardening. My hair used to bother her a lot. It had to be symmetrical or she'd go crazy—well, even crazier. She couldn't attack my hair with gardening shears (at least not anymore), so she had to recognize my hair style as the new norm. The only place she can carry out this normalizing process was in her garden. She's gotten better, but a lifetime of normalization has turned our backyard into the ninth wonder of Destiny Islands. One woman's garden is another woman's whip. Remind me not to get on Ms. Trepe's bad side.

"Now that all twenty-six of you are here, I will call attendance." Ms. Quistis Trepe holds quite a notorious reputation. Rumor has it that she once whipped a student for getting a question wrong. The answer was twelve, the same number of lashes she "corrected" him with. I doubt it really happened, but students lap up rumors like dog on peanut butter. There's an inkling of truth in every lie though, and I have no intention of being the one who confirms it.

**CRACK!**

I almost fall off my seat. I cough as dust flies into my face from the whip's impact.

"I asked for Sora Hikari. Is that you?" she asks.

"Y-yes." She even has to play out this charade? She already knows who I am. I guess any breach in her authority had to be corrected.

"Then why didn't you say so? Next time I call your name, say 'HERE.'" She resumes roll call. I heard her the first time, but I guess raising my hand wasn't enough. I can understand her need for absolute control. I'm trying to memorize the names of everyone in class as well. It's for practical reasons. I can design behavioral models based on how many guys and girls there are, and assign each person a basic profile. People have different responses to different stimuli. Say the right thing and they'll leave you alone. One trigger is being rude, a very common one, and another is being "too nice," if it comes off as creepy. I write down the names as she calls them. "That's everybody. Now let's start today's lesson..."

I scribble the last student's name in my notebook and recheck my list. Did I count wrong? Only twenty-five names. Someone is missing. I turn around to count the students. One, two, three...

...twenty-four, twenty-five. Where's the twenty-sixth person? I can't believe that Ms. Trepe, my algebra teacher, would make such a basic numerical mistake. Wait, I see it. A small movement at the corner of my eye. I try to focus my gaze but—

**CRACK!**

"Eyes up front, Sora!"

"Y-yes ma'am!" Bad enough I have to worry about my love sickness, do I have to watch out for whiplash too? I want to turn around and pinpoint the missing person, but Ms. Trepe's eyes are on me like a hawk. I normally pick up things in an instant, but the fact that somebody managed to elude my perception means one thing: there's a pro in class. There's someone who has mastered the art of invisibility like me.

It doesn't make sense. The teacher knows the person is here but didn't call out the name. It couldn't have been a mistake, which means the omission was intentional. There's only one reason for an intentional skip during roll call: gag enrollment. Contrary to the name, it's not a joke. Gag enrollment is a special kind of enrollment that allows students to attend and participate in class as if they never existed. Call it the "witness protection" of school. This is not common knowledge. It's usually for famous actors or actresses who want to go to school but remain anonymous. I should know, I looked into the program for obvious reasons, but I didn't qualify. I didn't have enough credit to my name to warrant admission.

Aside from that, today's lesson is comprised of introductory material. I make it through third period without raising further ire from the teacher. I pack my books and look back for the missing person. No dice. Whoever it was, they're long gone now.

I head into my next class, biology, which is taught by the ethereal Ms. Terra Branford. She's the only teacher with green hair. The crazy thing? It's all natural. Makes me wonder if there's actually a tree in her bloodline. Maybe her grandfather? Get it? Grandfather tree in her family tree? Okay, I'll stop with the puns now.

Unsurprisingly, there's another seating chart. Guess where I'm sitting? This is just getting old. There's only so much trolling I can take. Somebody in the administrator's office hates me. I can totally imagine it. Some douchebag scrolls through the student records until he finds my name. He notices the pattern and decides, just for the hell of it, to put me in a room with as many girls as he possibly can. What a dick. I sit down in resignation and lay out my notebook.

"Look who it is, the boyish boy." That husky voice. I look to my right and—aw crap.

"Paine. Never has a name been so apt." I wasn't expecting to see any of the Gullwings again. Amazingly, my level of nausea is much lower than before. I chalk it up to Kairi's influence. I still have to be careful though. One wrong move and its puke town for me.

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," she scoffs. I admit, it wasn't terribly creative. She's probably heard that one a million times before.

"Better than being named 'Pleasure,' right?"

Laughter erupts from behind. "Pffft! That sounds like a hooker's name or something."

Make that two Gullwings. "Rikku."

"Miss me?" I've only just come to terms about that day. I'm not prepared for a second-chance encounter. What to do? Be a jerk, be a nice guy, just tell her the truth?

"Nope." I turn around and find myself utterly fascinated by the blue lines of my paper. How about I just pretend it never happened?

"Aw… you're no fun. Are you trying to avoid me on purpose?" Does she—no, of course not. How could she know? This is friendly banter. That's all it is.

"Does that mean you've been looking for me?" The best answer to a question is another one.

"I asked first."

"An answer for an answer. Guess all we'll be left with today are questions. Good thing I'm not curious." I look at the clock. It's moving too slow. Speed up already!

"And here I thought you've changed a little," she accuses. "Looks like you've turned back into a jerk."

"And you haven't changed at all."

"Oh really?"

"You're still fucking beautiful."

The bell rings. I couldn't have asked for a better ending. The combination of class starting and my shocking compliment stops all backtalk. Now I can finally think. I sneak a look to my right and catch Paine giving me a bored gaze. She stopped talking the moment Rikku started. I wonder why. Something pokes me in the back. Oh, come on. What now? I look at the classroom window and see my reflection. The image of Rikku sticking her pencil into my back is as clear as day. I lean back so she can hear me. "Can you cut it out?"

"Make me," she blows in my ear.

I did not expect that. Dizziness washes over me. Ugh… focus, Sora! Keep your head in the game. Examine the situation/ What's happening right now? We're just talking. No, she's poking me with a pencil. Why would she do that? Is she playing around? The whispering, the talking, the sentences…

"Can't you guys flirt elsewhere? I'm trying to learn here," Paine scolds.

Flirting? We're not—shit, we are. I've been had. What a trap. I don't want to reverse my relationship with Rikku, but damn it, I'm about to throw up here. Time to initiate emergency protocol. "Stop being such a bitch… _Pukku_."

Did it work? **OW!** She practically stabbed me.

"God, why do you have to be so childish?" Excuse me? I'm not the one stabbing people with pencils here.

"If I'm childish, then you're fetal," I fire back.

"And if this were a classwomb, you'd both be sperm and egg," Ms. Branford cuts in. The class explodes in laughter. "Please have your intercourse elsewhere and not during class time," she says dryly. We both shrink under our desks as the laughter intensifies. I never knew Ms. Branford was such a comedian.

I make it through class without any more egg on my face—sorry, tasteless joke. Rikku gives me an annoyed look and I grin back. Instead of getting more annoyed, she giggles. Is today opposite day? I can't tell if she likes me or hates me. I hope it's the latter. Hate I could deal with, but like? I shudder. Acting like a jerk might be attracting her. Maybe I should start acting nice instead. What's the saying again?

Oh yeah, nice guys finish last.


	9. Challenge

**Chapter 9: Challenge**

Lunchtime.

I rub my stomach in an effort to quell its audible cries. The campus is crowded thanks to the influx of clueless freshmen. They stumble around, dazed, begging for directions to the cafeteria. The campus is complex enough that it takes a few days to memorize the layout. There is no central building. The school is divided by different halls connected to each other by concrete pathways. Each hall acts as a hub. The grades aren't separated, so everybody from freshmen to seniors mingle together on a daily basis. The athletics field lays behind the campus and offers a wonderful view of the ocean.

Ignoring the freshmen's pleas for help, I leisurely make my way towards the center of campus where the cafeteria is. It comes into sight. Wow, those are some long lines. It's always packed on the first day. Rows of people are lined up against the cafeteria walls. There are two main entrances. One for coming in, and the other for coming out. Since it's the first day, they're choked with hungry bodies. I walk alongside the line until I reach the doorway—and cut. Nobody notices. Ah, the perks of being invisible. Nothing like slipping in during the confusion. It's the only time of year when freshmen are actually useful. I pick up a tray. Lunch is chicken breast sandwich, a bag of carrots, and an apple. You won't ever see a greasy slice of pizza here. Everything has to be nutritious.

There's a misconception about diets. It's not about eating less, but about eating right. Bodies are machines. In order for them to work at peak efficiency, it's important to keep feeding it fuel. There are no oil-baked foodstuffs or deep-fried cuisine, it's all protein-packed, no-fat, nutritiously-stacked meals fit for being fit. My island taste buds are used to it, but I'm not sure how newcomers like Roxas and Kairi would react to the taste.

"Sora!" A shock surges through my spine making me stiff as a corpse—a standing one, like a mummy—I even do little zombie shuffle as I try to reposition my body in the opposite direction. Her sharp voice never fails to catch my attention. Curse you, Kairi.

"Hey." I said it to my sandwich.

Her footsteps stop behind me. "Come on, let's get a seat."

I follow her easily, using my enhanced senses to triangulate her position using the sound of her footsteps, the reflections off the tiled floor, and the flow of foot traffic. As we approach the building exit, the crowd unconsciously parts for her, granting us safe passage. Amazing. I didn't expect her to develop the Moses Effect so quickly. The stars in the eyes of awestruck boys are almost as bright as the sun herself. She didn't seem to notice though. We settle down at a table outside.

The striation pattern on a carrot is amazing if you look at it up close. The thin orange fibers that make up the texture look like yarn. Did you know that you can actually change the color of your skin if you eat too many carrots? It contains a pigment that dyes your skin orange. And speaking of skin discoloration, silver does the same thing. Colloidal silver is a type of new age medicine that mixes distilled water with silver particles. It's absolute rubbish, but if you drink enough of the stuff, you'll turn into a real life Silver Surfer.

"Sora." Sorry, can't talk, too busy thinking about Marvel superheroes here. Her hand reaches out for me.

"What is it?" I acknowledge hastily, recoiling in terror. Her hand is like a fireplace poker—extremely hot and dangerous. I'd appreciate it if the girls would stop trying to poke me already.

"Do you hate me?" I think my hearing just leveled up. I can _literally_ (and by that, I mean figuratively) hear her facial expression: the glistening pupils, the quivering lip, and the uncertain brow. It breaks my heart just imagining it. Seeing it might break my body for reals. I don't hate her, but I hate the effect she has on me.

"Do you hate _me_?" I ask. Evade questions with questions. It's an irritating tactic, but that's what I'm going for.

"Why would I?"

I smile, even if she can't see it because my head is down. "There's your answer."

"Then why don't you ever look at me?" The same reason why I don't play with fire, run around with scissors, or pick fights with people bigger than me. Self-preservation.

"You tell me."

"Am I that ugly?"

I choke on a carrot. **Cough! Ack!** **Ahem**. I suppose even gods can be insecure. "It could be the opposite," I suggest. The smell of her perfume is making me lose my appetite.

"Isn't that all the more reason to look at me?" she teases. I can't figure her out. Does she _want_ me to look at her, or is she that much of a stickler for common courtesy?

"Let's not get carried away here." I mean it literally (and by that, I mean literally). I don't want to end up being carried away because I passed out. I could collapse at the rate we're going. This conversation's sapping all my energy.

She chuckles. "It's rude not to look at the person talking to you. It's like you're ignoring me."

"I'm trying." I've learned to tell the truth sarcastically. They can't claim lies if they thought I was joking. That's on them.

"You're weird."

"Better weird than normal."

"Hello!" a voice greets, "You guys don't mind if I sit here, do you?"

Yes! Bailed out. I turn to my "savior" and see that he is none other than Riku Miyano. I hate surprises. What on earth is Riku Miyano, the number one guy in school, doing at our table? You must be wondering who he is. It should be obvious. He's numero uno, top dog, the most desirable male on campus. Even in a wasteland of generic beauty, there are a select few that rise to the top, the vaulted best of the best, the pantheon of amazing—all right, I know, enough of the hyperbole.

Did I mention he's a reality TV star? He's part of _Destiny High Times_, the number one show in the world. The fact that it's a reality show should tip you to the fact that this isn't broadcasted locally since there are no magic or robots, but overseas, _Destiny High Times _is an absolute sensation. Remember when I said fat people were bad for business? That business is entertainment.

Destiny High is the most filmed location in the entire world. Everybody uses our school as a backdrop for their lame teen dramas. The vistas are beautiful, the halls are open, the lighting is magnificent, and the extras are well-trained. The students here recognize camera crews and actors in the same category as janitors—pay them no mind; they're just doing their jobs. It's a symptom of the extras looking every bit as good as the leads. It's inevitable that a reality TV show would pop up around here. Nobody expected it to be such a hit though.

The main stars cycle through every year because old students graduate and new ones come in. This year, one of those stars is Riku Miyano. He is an immaculately sculpted being. His sharply defined muscles shine underneath a sleeveless vest that shows off too much skin. His long mane of silver hair makes him appear mythical, as if he stepped out from the cover of a trashy romance novel—probably a vampiric one. He has been blessed by the very best that island genetics had to offer. A true natural. And my complete opposite.

It scares me how comfortable he is around girls. His call to fame isn't the result of his looks. If that were the case, then any idiot here could serve as a substitute. He exuded a raw magnetism that attracted anything female—including animals. That's why the bitches love him. His over-exuberant confidence around girls is fascinating. Whereas my condition forces me to treat girls as sacred deities capable of destroying me at a moment's notice, the girls suffer from a condition that views him as a deity capable of bestowing great love and kindess. He sees girls as nothing more than worshipers—mere objects to gratify his existence. That's how I know _Destiny High Times_ is scripted. They'll manufacture moments of sensitivity among his conquests, when he's really an unrepentant playboy.

That he would approach this table could only mean one thing: target acquired. I look around for the camera crew. None in sight. I have a little luck after all. They must be on break. I should use this opportunity to escape.

"You are...?" Kairi says.

It's clear he's a little shocked that she doesn't recognize him. He shakes it off and gives his best smile. "I'm Riku. I haven't seen you around here before, and I thought I knew all the beauties in school." He winks. "Are you new here?"

"Do you know this person, Sora?"

Before I can reply— "Of course we know each other! We're best buds, aren't we?" Riku laughs, slapping me on the back. News to me. Normally, I'd tell him to shove it, but seeing as how he's my chance to escape, why not play along?

"That's right, Riku's a great guy. You two should definitely take the time to learn about each other." I take my tray and stand up.

"Wait." She grabs my arm to keep me from leaving. "I'll come with you. I finished my lunch anyways."

She's touching me.

SHE'S TOUCHING ME.

The sound of my tray clattering against the floor becomes faint as I sprint away. Hurry! Where is it? I know it's around here somewhere... there! It's a push door. I run through it with my shoulders and lock onto my target. A guy's about to walk into the only open stall. I steal it. "Thanks!"

"Hey!"

I respond with my retching.

**ARRGGHH...**

**GWAAAGHH...**

**GUUUH...**

...

"N-never mind!" the guy squeaks.

Deep breath.

Let it out.

Spit.

The carrots certainly look different in half-digested form. I wipe my mouth and flush my slush down the drain. Nothing like a restroom to wake up the senses. It sure don't smell like roses. This is my comfort zone... which means I spend way too much time in bathrooms. I've seen them all, from luxury toilets fit for a king's ass to rusty bloody nightmares perfect for Silent Hill. It's all about the entrance. I've battled swinging doors, twist handles, string beads, sliding automatics, and even doormen. Never go for the urinal and try for the bowl. In a pinch, the sink works as well. Restrooms aren't necessary, but they're convenient. In worst-case scenarios, I've been forced to improvise. I've hit garbage bins, sandboxes, bushes, roadside gutters, and the girls who got too close.

I peer around. No obscene drawings, no random scrawls, no questionable phone numbers, and a reasonably dry floor. The dual toilet paper dispenser is stocked too. For the world's most filmed school, I expected as much. The quality of a place is directly proportional to how well-maintained their restrooms are. It doesn't matter how expensive it looks like on the outside if the restroom smells like shit. Don't believe in shiny exteriors if the core is rotten. I exit the stall and wash my hands at the sink.

"So you're the Sora I've heard so much about."

I jump at Riku's sudden appearance in the mirror. Don't pop up behind me like that! I tap my chest a couple times to calm down. Did he just say…? "You heard about me?"

"That cousin of yours has a big mouth." I knew it. What the hell have you been saying, Roxas? Scratch that, _who_ have you been saying it to? "He said a lot of things about you, like you're the 'master,' the 'god' of picking up girls."

I rub my forehead. I gotta pull the reins on that boy. My reputation is building up too fast. "You actually believe him? Just look at me. You think I can pick up girls? I can't even look one in the face." My clothes aren't impressive. They're plain colored shirts and shorts. No patterns, no pockets, no personalization. It helps me blend in with the background. Destiny High is as modern as they come. There are no Victorian facades, no Baroque colonnades or Gothic spires; it's all streamlined, flat, and angular. The place looks almost futuristic, and a little too clean.

"A wolf in sheep's clothing," he explains. Me, a wolf? More like a scared puppy. "To be honest, I thought it was all talk... until I saw you two together."

"Us two?"

"You and Kairi. There's only one explanation for you to be sitting so cozily together." Yeah, because we're neighbors. I don't think Riku can even fathom the concept of girls being just friends—then again, I shouldn't be one to talk.

"We're not together," I state bluntly.

He grins. "Not for long. I know a player when I see one." A player? Who, me? That implies that I'm playing a game, and if he's thinking about the dating game, then he couldn't be farther from the truth.

"Dude, I'm not a player, I'm not even a spectator. I'm nobody."

He wouldn't have any of it. "The player doth protest too much. Let me tell you this, there's only one 'god' in this school, and that's me." Thanks for the information, but it's irrelevant.

"Uh... I never said otherwise, 'god.' I don't want your position. You can have it."

"Then prove it to me. Accept my challenge." What an amazing logical formula. Accepting a challenge to prove I lack ability. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? My words are falling on deaf ears. Surely he's being intentionally dense.

"I have to prove that I'm not gunning for your title? I just gave it to you. There's no need for a challenge."

"That confident you don't need one? We'll see about that."

I can see why he's so good at flirting. His ability to twist words is nothing short of incredible. "Your powers of misinterpretation are profound. You might want to check your ears."

"Not necessary. I hear you loud and clear. I see guys like you all the time. You think you're hot shit, that you can come into my territory and start taking what you want. You know what? It ain't your town, and there's only one alpha dog around here, and his name is Riku."

"I got it, alpha dog. You win, it's your victory. You're the man! Just leave me alone." I try to exit the restroom, but he gets in the way.

"The challenge is... to win Kairi's heart," he proposes.

Hell.

No.

That's the last thing I want.

"What? How do you—" Unbelieveable. The leap of logic required to make such a proposal is astronomical. I think he just wants a fight. That has to be it. He must be looking for an antagonist for his show. "I'm not interested."

"You ain't got a choice. I'm announcing the challenge to the whole school, not to mention my TV show. What do you think it'll look like if you back out now?"

I don't know what it'll look like, but it probably won't be pretty. I take a few steps back. I go into the stall. I put my head over the bowl and close my eyes. Think, Sora, think! There's no way in hell I'm going to accept this challenge. Is there any way I can get out of this? Riku is as bull-headed as they come. His reputation as a ladies man stems not only from his well spring of confidence, but from his teeth-grinding tenacity. He always gets what he wants. Reason and logic, the best tools for winning an argument, don't seem to work against him. He'll just take my words and throw semantics back at my face. I can't tell him to sod off either, given his reality TV influence. I don't want to be known as the "coward who backed down from a challenge." There's no choice but for me to accept, is there? If that's the case, then maybe...

I leave the stall and confront Riku. "Okay. I accept your challenge, but only under _my_ conditions."

He raises an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

I stick up my index finger. "One week."

My words offend him. He scoffs disbelievingly. "You want one week? What kind of player needs prep time? Go with with your instincts." I _have_ been trying to tell you that I'm not a player, but you refuse to believe it. Ugh, whatever.

"Not for me, but for my cousin Roxas."

When someone gives you a blank look, it's usually a dumb face. Riku somehow manages to make it look sexy. "I don't get it."

Here goes nothing. "I'm gonna level with you here. I have no interest in Kairi. For a guy like me, it's not even worth it. It's beneath me. I'd let you win on principle since the prize is so unappealing. So let's make it interesting. Instead of me, you'll be playing against Roxas. He's new here. He doesn't a know a thing about how this island works. But by the end of this week, he'll be so good, you're gonna be kicked out of your own show and be replaced by him."

"What are you saying?" He's intrigued.

"I'm saying, I'm going to teach him everything I know. My protege versus you. I think it makes the show more interesting that way, don't you?"

He chuckles. "Now you show your true colors. I knew the moment I saw you, you were something special. You'd have to be to talk to a girl like Kairi. You've got balls, I give you that." Time to push the conditions a little farther.

"Since I'm asking for one week, I don't want to see you or any of your camera crew around me until then."

"Why not?"

"A professional never reveals his secrets." For free anyways.

He gives it some thought. "All right, I agree to your conditions." Hook, line, and sinker! Gotcha. He puts his hand out for a shake.

"May the best man win." I shake his hand, and the deal is sealed. Satisfied, he lets me pass and I escape into the hallway.

Although I secured favorable conditions, the implications of my decision rapidly dawns on me. What on earth did I just get myself into? How am I supposed to deal with this? I need to come up with a plan, fast. I'm just glad I was able to buy myself some time.

I stop in the middle of the hall and look around. Okay, this looks like a good place.

**SLAM.**

My head makes a sizable dent in the locker.

Take a deep breath.

Now...

**MOTHERFUUU—**


	10. Lights

**Chapter 10: Lights**

—**CKKEEERRRR.**

I'm going to kill him.

None of this would happen if it wasn't for Roxas. How does he do it? Does his stupidity know no bounds? Now I'm neck-deep in the worst possible situation. I know I planned to walk out of the shadows this year, but not like this. I never asked for the spotlight, especially a high-grade super-powered one in the form a television crew of the most popular show in the world. How many more grievances will be stacked upon me before the day's end?

With Riku jacked up on testosterone and unwilling to let imagined offenses slide, I've unwittingly fallen into a proxy duel for Kairi's heart. I'll just let him win. I couldn't care less about the competition. Why should I help Roxas, the idiot who got me into this mess in the first place, win over Kairi? The punk deserves nothing.

It's the attention that scares the crap out of me. Any move Riku makes, the whole school knows. The boys can imitate and the girls can salivate. Having my face broadcasted all over the globe will destroy what little chance I have of leading a normal uneventful life. Every one of the stars who've graduated from _Destiny __High __Times_ has either soared to great heights or plummeted to the deepest depths of despair. There is no middle ground, no slipping out of the spotlight into a nice quiet existence. A role on the show is a promise of everlasting scrutiny, with no hope of escape from the lights, the camera, the action, the rumors, and worst of all, the girls.

One week.

I don't know if I can last that long. Although Riku will keep his promise, rumors will churn, and the gears of gossip shall spin for a relentless seven days. God forbid we have a single day without drama. I'm seriously gonna kill him.

"Sora," a voice calls. It's Hayner. He scampers up to me with a grin. What's got him smiling like that?

"Come to laugh at my predicament?"

"Huh?" It looks like it hasn't spread... yet. If it's Riku, I expect complete social saturation by tomorrow morning. It'll be a whirlwind of curious stares, probing questions, pointed denials, and no comments. The rumor mill is efficient like that here. All it takes is one vague status update on Moogle+ to spin a tale of treachery, love, and deceit. How many relationships have gone sour because of a few lines of text on the web? That's why I don't do social networking.

Moogle+ is the world's biggest social network, backed by the online giant Moogle. The word Moogle has already replaced the phrase "to search online" in everyday vernacular. Few things disappear from the internet. If a record is made, it is immortalized in the annals of digital history. That's why the first thing I did upon meeting Roxas and Kairi was Moogle their names.

I turned up some pretty interesting results. On Moogle+, searching for Roxas McCartney only got me a "User Profile No Longer Exists." Even the search engine cache was empty. Typing "McCartney Twilight Town" only got me a bunch of unrelated fools with the same surname. It was a dead end. He must really be trying to start life anew if he nuked all traces from the internet. Not a lot of friends back home I presume, considering how neatly he severed his ties. As for Kairi, opening her profile page was the equivalent of opening a screamer. I even fell off my chair from the sight of her photo. I closed the browser window (which took awhile since I was trying to avoid looking at the screen) and changed my settings to display no images.

She had 3000 friends. That's basically an entire school. Her profile wall was filled with farewell messages and love confessions from both sides of the gender divide. She was super popular. You wouldn't be able to tell from the way she acts. She's either oblivious or calculating beyond all measure. What stood out to me was that she never replied to any of the comments posted. No response because of conceit or apathy?

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but what if those thousand words happen to be the word "puke" repeated ad nauseum? Until I can look at her picture without feeling sick, a rather large mine of information will remain inaccessible. I will continue practicing until I can stomach her visage for more than a minute.

"Uh... Sora. You there, man?" Hayner waves his hand in front of me.

I gather myself. "What is it?" His eyes are stuck on the dented locker in front of me. "It was like that when I got here. Actually, this isn't even my locker." His face scrunches in confusion. "Let's just take a walk," I suggest.

He follows me as we move in the general direction of my next class. The scene outside the cafeteria is hectic. The freshmen are still pooling around the building, desperate for a bite. I weave through the crowd effortlessly. The same can't be said for Hayner. His steps are irregular, as if they can't decide on the proper path. He slows down as he grazes incoming traffic and leaves me with a comfortable lead—not that we're racing or anything. I stop outside the hall that contains my next class. It's a two-story building with a glassy exterior that reflects the sun harshly, blinding any students standing at bad angles. Some call it an architectural flaw, others call it cinematic. If it looks good on film, keep it that way.

He catches up to me and takes a deep breath. "I thought about what you said and... it made a lot of sense. But things are easier said than done." That's true for everything. "I know I have to do it, but the question is… how?"

"What are we talking about again?"

His face falls. A lot has happened since we last talked; forgive me if my mind isn't up to speed. "Olette, remember?"

Right. Childhood friends and all that jazz. "And you want me to tell you how?" I ask, picking up on his intention.

He nods. "I've never confessed to anyone before. I wouldn't know where to start."

You and me both. But there's an exercise for situations like these, where you prepare yourself by running simulations over and over until you have it down to a T. They call it, "Practice."

"What?"

"I said practice."

"I know."

"Then what's the problem?" Is it that hard to understand? Do I have to repeat it like Iverson before he gets it?

"How do I practice?" I know this. It's like that character that keeps asking "why?" No answer will satisfy. It'll be an endless chain of "how" and "how" and "how" until I have to do everything for him. It's practice! Set up conditions similar to the actual event and say what you need to say.

"Do I have to spell out everything for you? Can't you think on your own? I feel like I have to write a step-by-step guide just so you could have something to study," I joke.

"Can't you?"

I look at his face. That hard gaze tinged with desperation; he's actually serious. "Look, come back to me later. I'm not feeling good at the moment." Before he can say anything, I give him the "get the hell away from me" look that I use to repel girls.

"O-okay. I'll see you around... I guess." He smiles nervously and slinks away with low shoulders. Poor guy.

"Hey." He turns around. "Just because you have to do it doesn't mean you have to do it right away. Just give it some time." Damn my guilty conscience. I should've just let him go, but I gave him hope instead. It's as bad as making a false promise.

He nods gratefully. "Alright, thanks."

Finally, some time alone. The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. So much for that free time. Using my mental map, I easily find my next class. I walk in and take a moment to look around. Seems like I'm a little early. Half the seats are filled, but the front row is suspiciously empty. I sit down in somewhere in the front. Why fight fate? I might as well accept my destiny as a permanent foreground object for all my classes.

"Are you Sora?" the teacher asks.

I look up and she gives me a lopsided grin that dimples one cheek. She is Ms. Heartily, my Health teacher, but by virtue of being an attractive woman, she is anything but healthy for me. She's dressed in a sleeveless blue sweater that falls down to her calves. Black underclothes hug her form tightly. It's a classy and conservative (by island metrics) outfit.

"Yes."

She wags her finger. "Sorry, but you're sitting in the wrong seat." I am? My luck's finally starting to— "You're in the one next to it." —not change at all.

I grudgingly get up and move one seat over. I should've expected that. With the way things are going, I'd be sitting in the teacher's _lap_ by next period. Don't worry, I'm not jinxing it. Next period is PE. There's no way something like that can happen... I hope.

She nods in approval, her dark hair bouncing against her shoulders, and gives a double thumbs up. "Perfect."

I dig into my backpack and pull out my notebook. I've recorded most of the names in my previous classes even though I missed a couple, but that's to be expected. I'm not a professional stenographer. I'll catch the missing ones another day. I recognize some of the names because I've heard them on roll call from last year. I have some old classmates—not that they'd know me, so barring a few exceptions (like Rikku), I'm in the same boat as Roxas. Nobody knows who I am. I scroll through my records until a familiar name catches my eye: Olette. Why does that sound familiar? Oh, that's right. She's the girl Hayner's fawning over. She's in my second period. Hm. I should vet her tomorrow.

I continue looking over the names and—Riku. Freakin' Riku. He's actually in one of my classes? He shares math with me. Between a crazy whipper and a love rival (at least that what he thinks) armed with a television crew, I can already tell that math is going to be my least favorite class, as if I didn't already hate the subject.

Ms. Heartily calls roll, which is my cue to start writing down new names. This time, I make sure to attach them to faces. I don't recognize any of the names yet.

"Yuna?" the teacher calls.

"Here!" a soft voice replies from behind.

Three for three. I was wondering when the last of the trio would pop up. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to know I'm sitting in front of her.

"Sora Hika—oh that's right, _he__'__s__ here,__ silly __me_," Ms. Heartily mutters quietly. There goes that. Unless she's deaf and blind, Yuna definitely knows it's me now.

"Sora?" she whispers.

"In the flesh."

"Cool, we're in the same class, huh?"

I nod. I prefer gestural acknowledgments. Words tend to beget words. She doesn't say anything after that. Out of all the Gullwings, I think she's the one least interested in me. Maybe I should make friends with her?

"Who else is here?" the teacher muses out loud. She puts her nose against the roll sheet. "Oh, is Ge—_oops, __I__'__m __not __supposed __to__ call __that __name_… I guess everybody's here then!"

My time with Kairi has paid off. If it wasn't for her, my hearing wouldn't have been able to pick up that last sentence. There has to be another gag-enrolled student in here. So the name starts with "Ge." I check my notebook again. No names starting with "Ge." It was worth a shot. I look over my shoulder and search the blind spots. Nothing there, not over here—where is this person?

"You up front, eyes on me!" Ms. Heartily shouts.

I jerk my head around to meet her face. I cringe back as delirium assaults me. My vision is filtered through vignette borders, with darkness closing in my periphery. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I chant in an effort to ward off her looming face.

She draws back and gives a dainty smile. "Good! Remember class, all eyes on me!"

Ms. Rinoa Heartily, the fun-loving quirky health teacher, is held in high esteem. She is a buoyant force who raises the spirits of all who lay eyes on her. Perky, endlessly effervescent, and glowing, she's the type whose very presence induces smiles. Unfortunately, she does possess one minor character flaw. She's an attention whore. To which our students have lovingly dubbed her, "Eyes on Me" Heartily. She can't stand it when people aren't paying attention.

"Eyes on me!" she shouts again. "As long as you pay attention, you'll get a good grade! That means you, Sora! There's no need to write notes in this class, just listen!" She takes my notebook.

"But—"

"No buts! I'll give this back to you at the end of class." She winks at me like it's supposed to make it all okay. Seriously? You'd actually prevent a student from taking notes? That's when you know the school's priorities are out of whack. Every time I avert my gaze in the slightest, she locks on to me like a stinger and "gently" reminds me to pay attention. I've settled on staring at the space behind her.

What a great start for the school year. Nothing has gone the way I expected. My plan has officially gone to shit. I've lived with this sickness for a decade now. I know that I won't be cured overnight. That's why I developed a plan that spanned the entirety of high school. My freshman year, I practiced a low profile. This year, I was supposed to ease myself into the social fabric by making a few male friends—preferably ones with girlfriends. That way, I could cultivate the "friend of a friend" situation. It's win-win for me. I'll have female friends without worrying about them since they'll already have boyfriends. You can say my goal for this year is to get a girl friend. A friend who's a girl. That _was_ the plan, but now… I have no idea.

Fifth period ends. As everybody shuffles out, I turn around, hoping for a glimpse of "Ge." Nothing. I approach Ms. Heartily to get my notebook back. She wears a toothy grin as she hands it over. Another addition to my stable of unstable teachers. Is it too much to ask for a normal instructor? I'm out of here. The sun hits me as I exit the hall. The rush of warmth is welcome. Since it's in the afternoon, the sun isn't too hot. With the slight breeze, weather conditions couldn't be more perfect. Too bad I hate PE.

I trudge my way to the locker rooms. With the school's generous dress code, the girls always wind up wearing something provocative and skimpy. They somehow interpret "workout clothes" as bikini tops, short shorts, and tight tights. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned shorts and t-shirts? My only saving grace is the anti-shirtless policy, which goes for both genders. Still, too many students tow the line between "within guidelines" and "laughably inappropriate but still legal." What the hell, school? Can't I get a little consistency in the enforcement of dress code here?

My personal PE outfit is plain but functional. I wear a ventilated sports shirt with long sweat pants. Unlike the other guys, I don't have an obsession with showing off my body. No tank tops or wife beaters for me. I'm not super-juiced, but I'm not scrawny either. A lifetime of compulsory physical education will leave anybody reasonably fit.

The sound of a whistle catches everybody's attention. All eyes trace the source to the teacher, Ms. Claire Farron. She's a tough woman whose physical talents are many. Though she possesses the agility of an acrobatic, capable of somersaults and other feats of aerial gymnastics, she also wields immense brute strength. A real modern super human being. The crimson-colored cape on one shoulder makes her all the more super. She's dressed for maximum mobility, with a combination of tight shorts and a grey tank top. Her muscles are impressively toned and sickeningly sexy. She's pressing all the wrong buttons for me. It must be her strawberry pink hair; it's too similar to Kairi's.

"I am your PE teacher for the year. You will refer to me as Lightning and Lightning only. If you call me by anything else, you'll be running laps. If you disobey my orders, you'll be running laps. If you are unable to perform an exercise, you'll be running laps. If you give me attitude, you'll be running laps. Does everybody understand?" Everybody nods. Unbelievable, I actually jinxed myself. When I was talking about a teacher's lap, I didn't mean this kind of lap. "For today, we'll start by running laps. Get to it." The students haul their butts to the track. "Double time!"

Everybody quickens their pace until we're all gathered at the starting line. I shiver. It feels like people are staring at me. I glance around and catch a few observers. Some of them are guys and some of them are girls. They're whispering amongst themselves. Damn rumors. How fast do they spread The whistle blows and everybody explodes into a run.

I don't consider myself sporty, but there's something liberating about a run, especially when you break that "wall." It feels like you can go on forever. If you stop for just one second though, the fatigue hits you like a shovel to the leg. I have low endurance so I can't jog for long. I prefer sprints, since I do that more often than I run. It's all about the fast-twitch muscles. They have served me well in my numerous escapes over the years. Ow! My leg is cramping. I think I just hit my limit. I slow down to recover.

"Keep moving!"How did Lightning get behind me so fast? She leans close, almost as if to kiss me, "What are you waiting for?" I dash off, channeling my inner Bolt, to put distance between me and certain death. What a shock! I almost flash vomited there. I can already tell that Lightning's the type to get in people's faces. I don't want to get struck twice, but the odds are against me.

After who knows how many laps (I lost count after eleven), the final bell rings. Even though I call it a bell, it's more of a digitized jingle, but to me, its the sweet sound of release, like a choir of angels heralding my ascension. Their voices are a little creaky though. Actually, that's just the sound of my weary bones. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and baptize my face with a water fountain. I get dressed and pack my bags; it's time to leave.

I drag myself to the front gate and debate if I should wait for Roxas, and by extension, Kairi too. I don't want to see either of them; Roxas because he's an idiot; Kairi because she makes me sick. But I can't abandon them; I'm responsible for their safe return. Who knows what kind of mess they'll get themselves in? I've never seen a couple with such a high affinity for trouble before, even worse, I'm the one who usually suffers for it.

Then again, they might not need me to lead them home. I need to make sure. I pull out my cell phone and type a text message.

**Sora: Do you need me to take you home?**

Send. I wait. If I don't get a reply in two minutes, they're on their own. My phone vibrates and I check the screen.

**Roxas: yeah, where are you?**

**Kairi: only if you don't mind**

Kairi must be wondering why I ditched her at lunch; that much is obvious from her text, or perhaps I'm reading too much into it? I reply to both messages.

**Sora: I'm waiting by the entrance.**

I slip the phone back into my pocket and lean against the gate. I hate the waiting game, but I suppose there are far worse games to play. Like the "what if" game.

It used to be my favorite thing to do when I was younger. I'd always ask myself, "what if I wasn't cursed with love sickness?", "what if my parents were normal?", "what if I had grown up the same way as any other island boy?" It was a pointless and unproductive exercise, one that led me into logical circles of anguish and agony. I decided to make up some new rules for the game. I would no longer ask "what if" about the past, but "what if" about the future. I discarded the notion of destiny, of that prescient being who tugs on the strings of our puppet lives, and in it's place, I put my faith in human will. To put an end to my past, I made one single hypothesis about "what if" to satisfy my unending curiosity about the person that I could've been.

If I wasn't love sick... I'd be a much happier person. I'd be able to enjoy the simple things in life, like an episode of _Chain__ of __Memories_ or sea-salt ice cream by the beach. I'd have a lot more friends and we'd talk about random subjects and play around all day. It won't be forced or calculated. It'd be natural, as a result of a happy-go-lucky attitude towards life. I'd always have smile on my face and act a little goofy. I'd cheer up those who are down and make them laugh with my charming naivety. I can imagine it so clearly; I feel him bubbling underneath my surface, trying desperately to break out. But he can't. He is stuck underneath the plexiglass of love sickness, drowning in a sea of rationalizations. If I could just break that barrier...

I'd be a good guy. A fun guy. A normal guy. In short, I'd be...

Roxas.

Son of a bitch. No wonder why I find him so irritating. He's my own fucked up reflection. Now I have no choice _but_ to help him win.

I hate myself sometimes.


	11. Picture Perfect

**Chapter 11: Picture Perfect**

Twenty seconds.

A new record. I'm getting better at this, but it's starting to wear on me. It's like working out. I'm left in the same miserable state: covered in sweat, breathing hard, and knees about to buckle. Only the pump of sweet endorphins makes it worthwhile. The more I stretch my limits, the longer I can endure. At this rate, I might make it to a minute by tomorrow. My recovery time is also getting shorter. Sometimes, too much of a bad thing can be good for you.

I'm still waiting on them, Roxas and Kairi. If they were quicker, I wouldn't have to stand outside the school gate like a lovelorn schoolgirl waiting for the object of her confession. Now I'm forced to entertain myself with grueling training sessions. I stare at my cell phone, which glows dully in the afternoon light. There's only one line of text on the screen: 000KTP/JPG.

A couple of options pop up: View, Delete, or Rename. If I click "view," I will be submitted to the most harrowing and exhausting experience of my life, a mental gauntlet like no other, with my nerves set on fire, my senses smothered, and my balance askew. Just the thought of pressing "View" is enough to make my sweat glands go into overdrive. Thank god for the "Back" button. Pressing that will return me to tranquil equilibrium, like waking up from a bad dream. It's quite maddening what a picture can do to me, but even more maddening is what's in the picture. It's a candid shot of Kairi.

It was just a couple days ago when Roxas begged me to give him and Kairi a tour of the beach. It was one of the moments where I had to relent, just to maintain a proper 2:1 ratio of "no" to "yes." You can deny a man for only so long before he gets suspicious. He also had a point when he said that it would be our last chance for a stroll on the beach before school started. I wouldn't mind so much if Kairi wasn't included, but arguing for her exclusion would be a lot more suspicious than simply saying "no."

I wore my standard outfit, a white T with beige shorts, while Roxas donned new ones bought from the island. It was a chance for him to show off some new threads, but the shopping trip to get them—ugh, I won't be forgetting _that_ anytime soon. He was wearing his swimming trunks with an Oathkeeper-branded T-shirt. I wasn't planning on swimming, so I was comfortable in my plain attire. I had no idea what Kairi was going to wear. I was hoping against common sense that it would be anything _but a _swimsuit to the beach. If a glimpse of her in normal clothes was enough to send me careening off the proverbial cliff, a glimpse of her in skimpy swimwear would probably make me explode. I had my sunglasses on as a buffer, just in case. It might not protect me from a supernova, but any edge, no matter how slight, was helpful.

It wasn't entirely blind hope; there were several factors in my favor. Having just moved in, she didn't have any new clothes, and by clothes, I include swimwear. Without strong female guidance, she wouldn't be able to go shopping until she's made a few friends at school. She could take us if she wanted to, but such a role was reserved for a "boyfriend," which neither of us qualified for. She probably had swimsuits from Radiant Garden, but she wouldn't wear them since feminine impulse dictated an aversion to old clothing, especially if said clothing was not in vogue. Radiant Garden and Destiny Islands couldn't be more different in terms of fashion. For once, I bowed down to social conventions for saving my ass from another wretched day of... well, retching. She would no doubt wear something light (the heat necessitated it), but considering the more provocative possibilities, I wasn't complaining.

I held my breath as we waited outside her house. Would my prayers be answered?

"Hey guys," she greeted. I didn't see her directly. By using the edge of my vision, I pieced together her outfit. She wore a white blouse, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, with the top buttons loose. Around her waist was a pair of tight jean shorts. The sight of her shining pearlesque legs almost made me call off the trip right then and there, but I didn't.

Not exactly the best outcome. I'd prefer her to don a full body cloak that obscured every inch of her being. The situation did present me with a unique opportunity. Roxas' photo gave me the idea to retry photo desensitization using Kairi. The effect of his cell phone photo was strong enough to warrant closer examination. The problem was getting a good picture in the first place. I needed something risqué but not too daring. Since asking her to pose for me was out of the question, it was nice to see her dressed in an outfit that already matched my criteria. With one condition down, I just needed a chain of amazing coincidences to set up the perfect shot.

"You look great!" Roxas said.

"Thank you. Are those new clothes you're wearing?"

"You can tell?" He really liked his Oathkeeper shirt with its silver and gold design. Even I had to admit that he looked pretty sharp. "You look great, but you know we're going to the beach, right?" He needs to hide his disappointment better than that.

She giggled. "I just moved in a week ago. I haven't had time to buy anything new, and there's no way I'm swimming in my old ones."

"It's a tropical island. Doesn't swimming go with the territory?" He really wanted to see her in a swimsuit. Unfortunately for him, I didn't.

"We should get going," I interrupted. I wasn't a fan of standing still. When I'm in motion, I have an excuse to look away from the people talking to me. Gotta look where I'm going.

I ignored any protests as I left for the beach. They followed my lead even though Roxas dragged his feet like a kid who was denied candy—eye candy, in this case. We found ourselves in the midst of Starwalk, Destiny Island's famous beach street notable for its colorful shops, characters, and cordial atmosphere. The street was built from colored tiles that decorated the ground with starry sky patterns and sea-related iconography. If the ground didn't catch your eye, then the pedestrians most certainly would. The crowd was an eclectic but hot mix of well-toned bodies from both sexes.

"No matter how many times I come down here, I'm always amazed," Roxas commented. His eyes were fixed on bikini-clad torsos and legs. How typical.

Starwalk was packed as usual, a flow of bodies running through like a river. It was easy to experience a bout of ADD with the flashy shop exteriors, attention-grabbing solicitors, and sidewalk entertainers.

"Is that a pit?" Kairi asked, pointing to a giant gaping hole in the ground. Heh, those street paintings always threw tourists for a loop.

"Walk up to it," I suggested. As we got closer, the "hole" distorted until it revealed its true nature as a perspective painting.

"Wow!" she squealed in delight. "That's awesome!" Many of the local artists use it as a canvas for some truly mind-bending optical illusions.

Starwalk was one of those places where there was always something shiny to catch the eye. It was the reason I brought them here. If their attention was stuck on some glass trinket displayed on a street-side vendor, then I'm free to move about without Kairi infringing on my personal space. It was better that she ignore me than I ignore her. I wanted to kill as much time as possible. When the evening breeze came blowing, we would call it a day and head on home.

There were no end to the wonders on the street. We saw a clown juggle flaming bowling pins, witnessed a magician levitate, and watched Roxas lose his munny on a game of Lucky Hit. I felt like an adult in charge of two kids at a carnival. They were so amazed by the sights and sounds, they ran around from one point to the next, giggling madly like children high on sugar and nitrous oxide. Kairi's squeaks of pure glee wrecked my back, causing spasms with each note of happiness she squealed.

"Sora, check out this statue!" she called to me. She was closely examining a giant creature, a big white moogle with a black cat riding its shoulders. The cat was standing on its hind legs with a cape wrapped around its neck. A small crown rested between its ears and a giant megaphone was held in its paw. How cute, she thought it was a statue.

"Wowza! Whatta looker!" the cat purred to Kairi's astonishment. The feline pulled off its crown and proffered it to her. "Will you marry me?" it proposed. As if the idea of a talking cat wasn't ridiculous enough, its Scottish accent pushed the scene over the top.

Kairi giggled. "Wouldn't it be better to introduce yourself first?"

"Oh, alrighty." The creature placed the megaphone before its mouth. "I'm Cait Sith, a true gentleman, perfect for a lady such as yourself!"

"I'm Kairi," she answered back while petting its head. It seemed to enjoy the sensation. If she did that to me—stop, just stop.

"Whoa, is that thing real?" Roxas blared out in surprise. He approached the cat and cautiously touched its ears.

"Hands off the merchandise!" it yelped, smacking the hand away like a ball of yarn. Seeing Roxas getting told off by a cat... priceless. "And of course I'm real, it's not like I'm _fake!_"

Roxas looked to me for an answer.

"It's a robot," I explained succinctly. "A very well-made one."

"Aww, looks like the cat's out of the bag now," it sighed. The robot kitty turned to me at and its mechanical eyes widened cartoonishly. "Sora?" Before I knew it, Cait Sith leaped onto my head and rode my spiky mane like a head jockey. "I haven't seen you in six years, three months, one week, three days, and seven hours!" Machines and their perfect memory. "I remember it like it was yesterday! It took us days to clean out the stall, I've never seen a mess like that since—"

"Blah blah blah, crazy robots and their imaginations! Hahaha!" I clamped the cat's mouth shut and whispered into its ear. "_If you know what's good for you, you would do well to delete that memory right now_." It just had to bring _that _up. Those were dark times. I haven't been able to enjoy ice cream ever since.

The robot nodded its head under my grip and I let go. "Lighten up, Sora, it's just a joke!" Cait Sith bounced around some more until he finally returned to his rightful place on top of the moogle's head. "Why don't you guys come in? We got fresh sea-salt ice cream, perfect for a day at the beach."

The words jived with Roxas. "You have sea-salt here? Whoa, I thought it was totally a Twilight Town thing..." He turned to me. "Can I have some?"

"I'm not your mom. Whatever you do with your munny is your business." I'm flattered he thought so highly of me as to ask for permission, but if I have to hold his hand for every little thing, I'm gonna go crazy. Kairi seemed to enjoy the robotic feline's antics. "You like cats?" I asked her.

"Only when they're not real." Er... what? "Real cats make me uneasy." I didn't see Cait Sith as a real cat either, but that was a rather strange answer.

"Are you allergic to cats?" It was the only explanation that made sense.

"Something like that."

Either way, Cait Sith's Ice Cream Parlor was a prime attraction on Starwalk. Even without the robot mascot, the shop would still attract droves of customers because of its high-quality ice cream. They serve the best icy desserts on this side of the ocean. For a tropical island to not have the best ice cream in the world would be an affront to our standing as the number one island in the universe. Next to the beach, the shop was definitely up there on the list of places you have to visit while you're here. However, it was on top of my list of places to never visit. Only thing worse than lukewarm vomit is ice-cold vomit. I've learned that brain freeze works both ways, and it's even worse going in the opposite direction.

"Aren't you gonna come in?" Roxas asked. He and Kairi stood by the entrance expectantly.

"Go ahead without me, I'm not in the mood for ice cream."

"If only you guys knew," Cait Sith mumbled mysteriously. I glare at him. "B-but hey, this guy's a native, he already knows how great we are! Since you two know my good friend Sora-boy here, I'll give you the special native discount. Don't tell anyone, _but I jack up the prices for the tourists_." They nodded their heads conspiratorially and followed the robot in.

That was how most of the afternoon went, walking into shop after shop marveling at island novelties that have since become an old hat for me. It was all part of my plan. There was no end to distractions and diversions that allowed me to operate without bouts of stomach-clenching cramps or spine spasms. Kairi would briefly walk across my field of vision at times, for such incidences were unavoidable, but they were at least kept to a minimum. I almost considered the day a success until our sight-seeing went from Starwalk towards more natural landmarks—namely the beach. The natural beauty here is vast and numerous, from the sparkling ocean water to the iconic island palm trees. Large quantities of water have a way of drawing even the most grounded of us to its shores. Roxas wasted no time as he rushed towards the ocean, taking off his shirt, and dove right in. I didn't see Kairi join him, so I assumed it was safe to sneak a peek.

Oh, how wrong I was. I barely turned my head when I saw her in the middle taking off her shirt. There are moments in life when you just can't tear your eyes away. The act was far from a car wreck, but it drew my gaze the same, and was just as dangerous. There's a method to undressing. You can just pull the bottom of the shirt over your head and be done with it, but depending on how you take it off, the mundane act can be transformed into an incredibly sexy one. Kairi elected for the slow and painfully teasing approach. She unbuttoned her blouse from the top, with each button parting ways for a view of an ample chest bound together by a pink bra. It was a string bikini top that satisfied the definition of "swimsuit" in the most basic sense. No special designs, no frills, or any other distinguishing features. By island standards, it was the plainest piece of swimwear imaginable, but seeing that cloth hold together Kairi's chest was the most excruciating sight I've ever had to endure.

I vaguely remember the shirt rolling off her shoulders like an angel shedding her wings. It was divine. I could see a beam of light from the heavens engulfing her as her shirt wrinkled and fell off her slender form in slow motion. She noticed my gaze and looked at me. She looked at me. She freakin' looked at me.

Darkness.

Impenetrable.

Pitch black.

Complete absence of light.

I blacked out for five seconds on my feet.

It was a momentary lapse. For one fleeting moment, I disappeared from the face of the earth and chanced a glimpse into the dark abyss that resided deep within my soul. It felt... familiar. Just as soon as I came in, I was sucked out of my insides and thrown back to reality.

"_...tide pools okay?_"

"Huh?" I opened my eyes and saw the sand beneath my feet. I stumbled slightly, wondering what the hell just happened. From the angle of Kairi's shadow on the ground, I knew she was standing in front of me. I wasn't going to be looking up anytime soon.

"I'm going to check out the tide pools," she informed.

She didn't seem to notice my blackout, probably because of my shades. I turned away and shook my shoulders to jolt some feeling back into my body. "Sure. I'll be... here."

"Okay?" I stood there with my back to her. She eventually got bored with my non-responsive posture and left me.

After I determined that she was far enough, my legs buckled and I collapsed onto the sand. It was the furthest I have ever gone into oblivion. To think I'd skip all the nausea and jump straight into a blackout... it was scary as hell to contemplate. My sensory system was incapable of processing her action. My body had shut down and rebooted for the sake of basic comprehension. I held my head with both hands, gently massaging my temples. As long as she remained shirtless, it was impossible to do much of anything. I was paralyzed. There was only one thing I could do: wait.

I had to wait until the sun went down and things got cool enough to warrant a proper redress of her torso. It was around 4:00, which meant a couple hours before sunset. In the meantime, I sat in the sand and twiddled my thumbs, lamenting the awesome power Kairi possessed. She was breaking all the rules, all the limits, and all the boundaries I discovered through experiments conducted over the last decade of my life. I had put myself in compromising situations to test myself; I had sought creative solutions, developed complex methodologies, and inferred causes and effects all in an effort to understand my disease. Out of nowhere, this girl comes barreling into my life and demolishes everything I thought I knew about myself. A single glance reduces me to a puddle of puke, makes me black out, and what else? What new rule will she break next? Is it possible that the next time something like this happens, my heart will cease beating entirely?

I didn't know. The uncertainty gnawed at me and drove me more insane than I already was. There was only one way to salvage the trip. If I had any hope for progress, I needed research material. It was time to take a picture of Kairi.

A normal picture was dangerous enough, so a shot of her in her current shirtless state could pose significant health risks. Then again, the more potent the photo, the quicker my gains. That thought was the only thing that propelled me through this suicide mission. I found her easily. Even from a distance, she grabbed my attention like a lighthouse in the dead of night. She was dawdling by the coastal rocks, tiptoeing on wet stones and collecting sea junk. I psyched myself up in preparation through a series of deep breathing exercises before making my approach. Using every ounce of muscle control I possessed, I made my way as stealthily as I could. I used random people as cover, strained my feet to reduce sand rustle, and angled myself behind her at all times. I got as close as ten feet. Any further and I'd be stepping into the kill zone. There were enough people around to hide my presence.

It was finally time to snap the shot. I put my back towards her, whipped out my cell phone, and held it over my shoulder for the snap. I pressed the button and heard the tell-tale click of the camera shutter. It was a wild shot, a stab in the dark, a test run. I knew I needed several shots before I could get a really good one since there were many factors I had to account for, such as lighting, her pose, and any possible obstructions between her and my lens. I viewed the photo to see what adjustments I needed for the next shot, but the picture on my screen was so shockingly amazing, I accidentally slipped on the wet rocks and fell into the ocean.

"Sora! Oh my god!" My spill in the tide pool caught her attention, prompting her to laugh. Her giggles were insult to injury—more like additional injury to injury, actually. To make things even worse, I felt a numbing sensation on my rear-end and realized that I landed on a cluster of sea anemones. It was the low point of my day, both figuratively and literally. At least it cut the trip short and forced all of us to go back home early. It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt. Too bad it had to be me.

Ouch. My ass still feels a little tender. I couldn't tell you how she looked that day since my memory was soured by pain, agony, and immeasurable bodily harm, but constant reexamination of the photo has burned her image into my mind. It was perfect. She was gazing at the sunset sky setting fire to the sea. The ocean surface was an exploding blossom of yellow and orange petals rippling in delight. Her arms were crossed behind her back as she stood over the water.

I couldn't figure out how my half-baked attempt at a photo resulted in a professionally framed image worthy of being the cover of a fashion magazine. I know nothing about framing, lighting, or any other variables that pros take into account when they snap shots. I usually roll with the philosophy of, "if it looks good, it's good." But even to my newbie eyes, I could tell this photo was the kind that won awards based on technical merit alone. How could an amateur like me produce such a fantastic photo? Because of the subject.

Kairi was a natural. All her mannerisms were governed by the rule of grace and poise. She possessed the most filmic movements of any girl I've seen. These are physical motions that real models have to learn and practice in order to be successful at their jobs, but Kairi had it by instinct. It's the reason why the crowds parted like the Red Sea for her. Where did she pick it up from?

Given that her mom wears a business suit, I somehow doubt that it was a maternal inheritance. I don't think she's modeled either, considering her seeming obliviousness. It might be innate. It could be rooted in her genes... perhaps island genes. It's a stretch to make such a theory based on model-like behavior, but her natural ability could be indicative of the possibility that she is, in actuality, an island native. If that's the case, it only adds weight to the idea that we've met before. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. All I need is the evidence to back it up.

000KTP/JPG.

Kairi Training Photo.

The image is locked. There's no way I can delete it. Despite not being able to sit straight for days, despite suffering the first blackout of my life, and despite the terrible feelings of sickness the photo inspires, it was worth it. Maybe I'm just a masochist and I'm getting way too used to pain. As I live through these days with all my misgivings, doubts, and fears, there's one thing I know for sure: Kairi is the key.

Until the day comes that I can confront her face-to-face, I will have to be content with this cell phone picture. I turn the screen off and slip the phone back into my pocket. It's been half an hour since school let out. What's taking them so long?

I just want this damn day to end already.


	12. Window Crossing

**Chapter 12: Window Crossing**

Where. Are. They?

I've been waiting for half an hour already. Outbound traffic has slowed down to a crawl, leaving only a smattering of students around, and not a single one of them are who I'm waiting for. Maybe they ditched me.

First days usually start with a frenzy that dies the moment school ends. Once that final bell rings, everybody wants to get hell out. Things should get livelier as the week goes on, and they'll be more people staying behind after school. Clubs and organizations will be out in full force to recruit unsuspecting freshmen to inflate member counts tomorrow. Today is just the calm before the storm.

A whirlwind of leaves hits my face. Some get into my mouth. I spit out the foliage and glare at the offending tree. It's slowly stripping down to its bare bark. Autumn brings flying leaves, naked trees, and cooler breezes. The days are getting shorter. The sky's already taking on an orange tint. Nightfall will arrive soon... and I'm just standing out like a jilted lover. Screw this, I'm out.

Of course, just as soon as I decide to leave, Roxas comes barreling out of the gate. What lame timing. You do not make me wait only to show up at the last second, only I'm allowed to do that. His head spins around the street wildly. Is he looking for me? "Roxas."

He jumps in surprise. "Whoa! You scared the crap out of me. Are you a ninja or something? I didn't even know you were there!"

Force of habit. I naturally blend into walls when I lean against them. "What the hell took you so long?"

"Sorry for being late." He rubs the back of his head and smiles apologetically.

That's it? You have to do better than that to appease my wrath. "What's your excuse?"

He slumps his shoulders. "I was following your advice."

My advice? What advice? "And?"

He shrugs. "I couldn't find anyone. Why are the girls here so beautiful? It's impossible to approach... it's too intimidating," he whines lamely. "This is harder than talking to Kairi."

Nothing is harder than talking to Kairi, but that's just me. Did I really say something like that to him? Aha! I remember now. I told him to be comfortable around girls. I suppose asking some random girl "can I practice being myself around you?" isn't a realistic approach. This is further proof that Roxas is lacking downstairs. He needs to grow a pair and stop using me as a substitute. I hope he doesn't expect me to devise an encounter for him.

"Can you help me?" he pleads. My hopes are dashed.

"God helps those who help themselves." I can totally imagine Riku using the same exact line, except he'd probably replace "god" with "Riku." The terms are probably interchangeable for him.

"Help me out a little? I've only been here for a couple weeks. It's like you said, the odds are stacked against me. I need the edge only you can provide."

How flattering. No amount of sweet talk can butter me up. "The odds are stacked against Hayner, not you. You have an average shot with Kairi, who is from out of town too. Island dynamics have nothing to do with it. How hard is it to make friends with a girl anyways? Aren't you and Kairi friends just fine?"

"It's like you said, we're both from out of town so it's easy. But these island girls, it's like they got an invisible force field around them. Every time I get close, I chicken out." The anti-poultry field—chickens need not apply. It's an island trait meant to weed out-of-towners looking for an easy ride. "Besides, with Kairi, I think I'm getting friend-zoned."

"What makes you say that?"

He looks down. "Just a feeling." He's more perceptive than he lets on; either that or has very low self-esteem. Probably both.

"Hey guys!" Kairi's voice cuts through our conversation like a jagged knife. I chance a look at her and last an amazing five seconds before returning to Roxas. I wanted to test my training, but I may have gone overboard by one second; my stomach's beginning to cramp.

"We'll talk about this later," I whisper.

He gives me a surprised look. I guess he expected me to ignore him as usual and move on with my life, but the circumstances have changed, all thanks to his loud mouth. Friend-zoned or not, I still have to make him a worthy enough for Riku's competition.

Kairi jogs up to us. "Sorry I'm late, I was—"

"Checking out the school and doing a little exploration?" I finish for her.

"How did you—"

"I was a freshman once," I say, cutting her off. "We naturally want to get the lay of the land."

She chuckles. "You're right. Should we head out now?"

I nod and start walking. "Memorize this route," I order, "so I don't have to lead you guys back home everyday."

Our homeward trek is silent. It's one of those cases where there's so much going through your head, you don't know where to start. There's a lot for us to digest. Roxas and Kairi have their own problems to mull about. My cousin's desperately trying to restart his life by assimilating himself into a culture that seeks to reject him, and Kairi's trying to figure out why her next door neighbor seems to hate her, and she's probably noticed the way people have been acting around her too. Popularity is one hell of a drug. If she's not the one addicted to it, then it's everybody else around her. As for me, I have a feeling things are only going to get worse from here on out. The end of a long day is just the start of a much longer week.

The "normal" route back home is quite scenic compared to the back alleyways we used to reach school. We walk the main streets, which offer much more exciting scenery for the eyes to chew on. Our path leads us through Elysian Fields, also known as the greatest park in the world, thanks in no small part to my mother, who was commissioned to decorate the place with plants, trees, and flowers. True to its name, the park is paradise on earth, featuring a seamless blend of wild and groomed. It almost feels as if the vines are growing and wrapping around the concrete as you advance, with flowers sprouting in slow motion, and trees dancing in tune with your cadence.

"Beautiful…" Kairi sighs under her breath.

"Speak for yourself," Roxas pipes. Wow, he took the words out of my book of cliches. Is he actually learning?

She giggles. "Thanks."

We clear the park and enter Sky Plaza, the equivalent of "downtown" Destiny Islands. It covers the space of four blocks filled with an assortment of specialty shops that are impossible to find anywhere else. Sky Plaza's prime attraction lies at the center, and it's tall enough to be seen from where we are.

"What is that?" Roxas asks.

"Our national treasure, the Paopu tree." It's a very special tree indigenous to Destiny Islands. It naturally serves as a symbol of our culture. They normally grow to about 60 feet, but the Sky Plaza Paopu tree is at least 100 feet tall. Its enormous trunk twists and turns, spiraling towards the sky, and ends with sprouting green leaves and star-shaped fruit. "Come on, let's keep moving."

After Sky Plaza, we hit our neighborhood. Finally. Home sweet home.

"Do you guys need me to show you the way again tomorrow?" I ask. I don't like taking the normal route—too much traffic, too many eyes, and not enough privacy.

Roxas rubs his chin. "The way you showed us was pretty confusing, so…"

"It's not that hard," I counter. "Just look for the Paopu tree, go through the plaza and go through the park, and bam, you're at school."

"Ummm," Kairi starts, "I think it'll take us a couple trips before we're comfortable going by ourselves."

"Why don't you guys just use Moogle Maps or something?" They give me blank looks. "You know, on your smartphones? You just..." Their faces become progressively more blank as I ramble. It's no use. "Fine, I'll take you guys again tomorrow." Kairi gives me a relieved smile. The urge to escape rises dramatically. "I'll see you guys later!" I jog to the house and shut the door. Her smile can cure cancer, stop wars, and make me explode. She shouldn't flash such a dangerous weapon so carelessly. Who knows what kind of collateral damage it can cause? I massage my stomach and grimace. That was too close.

I look around the house: kitchen to the left, stairs in front, and living room to the right. All the homes in the neighborhood share the same floor plan, except for the house next to me—Kairi's house. For some godforsaken reason, her house is built in reverse. I run up the stairs and enter my room, dropping my backpack by the bed before collapsing on the mattress. I'm tired. How much bullshit did I have to deal with today? All my teachers are women, random guys are running to me for advice, I'm surrounded by girls, I've managed to catch even more of Rikku's attention, Kairi thinks I hate her, and Riku's got me in a duel where I have to teach Roxas how to become a ladies man. The entirety of my freshman year wasn't this exciting.

I pull myself up and walk to my desk, which sits in front of the window. The curtains haven't moved since I closed it weeks ago. It's for my own protection. How so? It's because Kairi and I have the same room. It's not what it sounds like. We share the same room on a residential floor plan. Since her house was built in reverse, her window is directly across from mine. It wasn't your typical next-door through-the-window exchange. I didn't look up to see her undressing by accident, thank god, and she didn't see me dancing in my underwear. It was just a normal day. I was jotting down notes at my desk when I caught movement off the corner of my eye. I looked up to see her waving at me through the window.

And I threw up.

Not right away, mind you. I had the good sense to smile and wave back before I ducked down and emptied my stomach into a waste basket. I hid there for a good half hour before poking my head out to see her still there. It was horrible. I wanted to close the curtains, but I couldn't do it while she was still watching. It wasn't until an hour later that the coast was clear and I finally closed those infernal curtains. That was when I realized the true extent of her powers. She's managed to invade my sanctuary. I'm not even safe in my own room.

I open the drawer and pull out my trusty notebook. Every observation, every theory, and every plan I've ever concocted resides in here. It's been a great friend to me over the years. For the purpose of secrecy, the notebook never leaves my room—ever. I also write in code, so if anybody were to read it, all they'd see is a bunch of gibberish involving key-shaped swords, menacing shadows, random Disney characters, and RPG jargon. To make things even more confusing, I write out of order, so you'd have to jump from page to page to maintain continuity. I flirted with the idea of going Da Vinci and writing backwards, and I also thought of using invisible ink, but that's being overly paranoid.

Why all the security? My mom had a bad habit of cleaning my room when I wasn't there, and through the great excuse of "worrying about her son," she read my notebook. I think my gibberish gave her the wrong idea. She probably thinks I'm a schizophrenic like dad.

It's time to start planning. Is there any way out of Riku's challenge? Maybe if I completely bomb with the ladies in front of Riku, it might convince him that I'm not who he thinks I am. No... pulling a stunt like that will only serve as proof that I'm a player somehow. His twisted logic is too powerful. I can't underestimate him.

Given his position, I'm sure a lot of guys are gunning for his throne, and this game of his is probably a preemptive declaration of dominance. I have a feeling I'm just a sacrificial lamb. He'll display my head and thump his chest to scare off the more legitimate threats at school. I'm nothing but an easy victory to him. If that's the case, then I have no choice but to turn Roxas into a rock star. Nobody takes me for a fool and gets away with it. I may not have a perfectly sculpted body or any experience with courtship, and I can't even talk to girls, but I have one thing that Riku doesn't:

Love Sickness. And all the baggage that comes with it: self-conscientiousness that borders on narcissistic, a restless mind, impeccable memory, meticulous observational skills, and a rather skewed view of the opposite sex. The odds are against me, but my entire life has been a series of statistical failures. What's one more to the list? Any chance is better than no chance. If there's ever a time to go all-in, that time is now.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Six days. That's not a lot of time to work with. From dud to stud in less than a week... I don't think such a transformation is possible for Roxas. I have to cook up a menu by tonight so I can dole out the dishes during the week. By Monday morning, Roxas should develop quite the palate.

Roxas doesn't fit into Riku's mold of arrogant but oh-so-sexy jerkass. Trying to out-Riku Riku is a losing formula, and I'd be damned if I'm responsible for creating another Riku. I have to highlight Roxas' innate charm somehow, which might be difficult considering he has none. He might have something up his sleeve I don't know about, but if he hasn't shown it by now, you can't blame me for being skeptical. If I had time, I'd perform some experiments and isolate critical personality variables to find his best qualities. Since I'm running short, I'm forced to rely on inexact methods. I'll just have to ask him. I leave my room to see Roxas, who currently occupies the guestroom.

"Hey Rox—" It's empty. Where's an idiot when you need one? I walk down the stairs and hear chatter and laughter in the kitchen. Mom has company over? I peer over the kitchen divider to my right. My mom's with a man. I can recognize that shock of red hair anywhere, even from behind. It's Kairi's dad, Reno. I still remember him clearly when they first moved in next door. What's he doing here? My mom notices me, causing Reno to turn around and grin.

His pale green eyes light up. "Sora, you never told me your mom was Aerith!

Because you never asked.

Wait a minute, does this mean... Reno, Kairi's dad, knows my mom?

That can't be a coincidence.


	13. Redemption Point

**Chapter 13: Redemption Point**

An oasis in a desert.

There comes a point, in every bad day, when a single ray of light manages to penetrate the darkness and _almost_ redeems the journey from being a complete waste. I've been wandering around a desert and endured whipping winds in the form of teachers, unexpected sandstorms from reality TV stars, mirages of freedom crushed by the presence of Kairi, and the unbearable heat that Roxas has brought upon me. But this chance encounter is the first good thing to happen in a long time. It's a chance to learn more about the enigma that is Kairi. Who knew the opportunity would just waltz right into my house? Saves me the trouble of having to go out and investigate on my own.

"You two know each other?" I ask.

"Something like that," Reno says, smirking. I absolutely despise that expression. It's just another way of saying nothing.

"Zack and Reno used to work together at Shinra," mom reveals. She gives me a pleasant smile, the facial cue for, "there's a guest over, act hospitable!" She's even wearing her guest wear, a prim white dress with red trimmings. They're sitting at the dining room table with coffee mugs in hand.

I walk around the divider and enter the kitchen. It's a pleasant space, with slick tiled flooring and smooth countertops. Cabinets filled with dinnerware are mounted above the sink. I open one, grab myself a cup, and pour myself a glass of water. I lean against the counter to get a clearer look at Reno, who smiles warmly at me. I take a sip from my cup... and almost choke on it.

**Cough!**

What on earth is he wearing? It's a star-patterned button down with short sleeves. They're definitely island style. The only problem is... it's out of date by almost a decade. I recall the style from old fashion catalogs. I did a lot of research into clothes when I was younger. I still keep up with current trends, just to make sure that I'm one step behind. Fashion is a big part of my invisibility technique. My knowledge is on par with a metrosexual. It's ridiculous how cyclical the industry is. One day, I'm behind the times, and the next, I'm in vogue. While it's true that Destiny High has a lot students dressed in eccentric clothing, the majority wear normal clothes. Otherwise, I'd go to school wearing a pirate outfit just to blend in.

"You okay?" he asks.

I clear my throat. "It's just... ahem. Nice shirt."

He looks down and laughs. "This old thing? I must look horrible in it, but it's appropriate for the place."

Appropriate, how? Either way, that shirt is evidence that he's been here before, and by extension, Kairi too. "So you know my father, Zack?"

He folds his hands beneath his chin. "Yeah, we were coworkers. We worked in different divisions. It wasn't like we were best buddies or anything." He turns to my mom and winks. "I always thought his girlfriend was cute though." Dude, like seriously? You gonna do that in front of me? You don't hit on another guy's mom, especially when he's there.

"Thank you," my mom giggles. "I almost didn't recognize you when you knocked on our door. Your hair wasn't red before."

He slides a hand through his locks. "Yeah, I've undergone some changes—for the better."

"Come to greet the neighbors?" I ask.

He gives me a thumbs up. "Yup. It's good to make friends. Never know when a favor might come in handy. But I neverd expected my neighbor to be Aerith. It was a nice surprise."

My mom shakes her head. "You're the same as ever."

"I've changed a little bit, just not my personality. Why change the best thing about myself?" he jokes. How modest. Kairi must take after her mother.

"Where's your wife?" I wonder.

"Cissnei? She's on her way to Radiant Garden." He laughs at my confused look. "She's on assignment, the last one before officially transferring over to Destiny Islands. We moved here earlier for Kairi's sake. This way, she can start school from the start instead of transferring in the middle of the semester."

"What does Cissnei do?" I probe.

"Same thing I used to do."

"And that is...?"

"Sora, can you pour me a glass of water?" my mom requests. She's trying to get me to back off. I suppose throwing a barrage of questions at the guest doesn't qualify as "hospitable."

"Sure, mom." Looks like I have to hold the interrogation for another day.

Reno checks his phone. "Is it that late already? Looks like I have to get going. I've taken enough of your time, Aerith," he says suddenly. Did I scare him off? "And to answer your question, my wife's a Turk." He grins proudly and does a small wave with his hand before standing up.

"I'll see you out, Reno," my mom offers. They leave the dining room.

A Turk... according to my dad, the Turks are a special forces unit within Shinra, separate from SOLDIER, the unit my dad runs with. Her parents and my dad work at the same company. I'm certain... Kairi and I have met before.

"Sora, what was that?" My mom has just returned, and she looks angry. She grabs the mugs on the table and sets them in the sink symmetrically. "Where are your manners?"

I ignore the question. "What do you know about Reno?"

She gives me a disapproving look and sighs. "He's one of Zack's friends. They would occasionally drink together. We met several times but lost touch about ten years ago." That's about the same time I started suffering from love sickness. Coincidence? Hell no.

"That was here, on Destiny Islands?"

"Yup, but they moved so suddenly. I never found out why."

"Do you remember Kairi?" As soon as the question leaves my lips, my mouth gets dry. I take another sip.

She scrubs the mugs in the sink for a minute before answering. "Reno's daughter? I don't recall. We weren't terribly close."

"I see... I have another question then. Did anything happen to me ten years ago?"

"Not that I recall," she answered quietly. "Why are you being so nosy anyways? You usually keep to yourself." An idea pops into her head. "You wouldn't happen to be interested in Kairi, are you?"

I take a page from Reno's book. "Something like that."

She looks relieved and begins drying the mugs with renewed vigor. "I was starting to think you were asexual."

"_What?_" That came out of nowhere.

"All you ever did was stay cooped up in the house all day. You can't blame a mother for being worried about her son."

Puberty is a precarious time for development. It can spell the difference between a misanthrope and a happily married fool. "You don't have to worry about me, mom." It's not like I display the classic signs of antisocial behavior—I totally conform to social norms, I don't lie _that_ much, and I don't act impulsively. I may come off as cold and calculating, but being a dick isn't grounds for therapy.

She gives me the "whatever you say" look and switches the topic, "How are things with you and Roxas?" What's got her so interested? Wait a minute, don't tell me—

"Mom, are you responsible for siccing Roxas on me?"

She rolls her eyes. "I wouldn't use that word, but yes, I asked him to be your friend." Completely unnecessary. I was planning to make friends this year anyways. No need to screw up my scheme with unwelcome surprises.

"Mom." I muster as much indignation as I can. "_Mom_."

"I'm sure you've noticed that I have some... issues." No kidding. "And I haven't exactly been the best mother. I can't be with you at school and I can't be your friend. I can't help you with the things that any other normal mother can do."

"Stop it." I don't want to hear this drivel from the woman who gave me life. I'm grateful to her no matter what she thinks.

"Between me and your father, I already have suspicions about why you act the way you do, not to mention your weak stomach. Forgive me for trying to do something about it. If I don't, you'll never tell me what's wrong." Because that's how we do it in this family; everybody deals with it on their own. "If you can't tell me, that's fine. But you can tell someone else like Roxas. He's a good kid and your age. I think you two could help each other. I'm already seeing a few changes."

"Like what?"

"You're smiling more."

"No I'm not."

"You're arguing with someone who has OCD."

Touché. Who am I kidding? All this commotion has been the most exciting thing that has happened to me in the last ten years. When a person is confronted with something new, there's always that feeling of fear and apprehension, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little excited. They say the difference between a good player and a great one is the ability to play under pressure. I've intentionally kept the stakes low throughout these years. Never have I found myself in a position where I had to fight for my life. With the arrival of Roxas and Kairi, my mind, body, and spirit have repeatedly been broken, over and over again. And in exchange for all this pain and agony, I've grown stronger, more resilient, and resistant.I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think my mom is right.

"I knew he would be good for you."

"You would know right? Crazy woman."

"Now now, let's not get bent out of shape. If you'll excuse me, I'll be in the garden." She leaves through the back door. I wonder what's troubling her this time?

At the counter, the mugs are perfectly stacked on top of each other. Like clockwork. The sound of the front door opening catches my attention. It's Roxas.

"Oh...hey," he greets weakly.

Care to explain yourself, young man? "Where the hell were you?"

"Just... getting the lay of the land you know, hehe."

"We need to have a chat."

"About what?"

"About you, Kairi, and everything in between."

His eyes light up like a thousand-watt bulb. "Seriously?"

"Let's go someplace private," I suggest. We settle in my room. I take the chair by the desk and he takes my bed.

"So what's the deal?"

Stop acting comfortable. That's my bed, punk. "Due to circumstances beyond my control," and attributable to you, "I find myself in a position where I must help you ask Kairi out."

His jaw drops. "Why?"

"Because you're an idiot." Oops, I didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Just because I'm lacking confidence doesn't mean you can say I'm stupid," he whines.

"True, but you also lack common sense, subtlety, or any regard for the possible ramifications of the things you say at school."

"Eh?" Don't pretend like you don't know.

"Thanks to your mouthing off, guess who approached me?"

"Hayner?"

"No. Freak'n Riku Miyano."

"The _Destiny __High __Times_ star? What does he want?"

Should I tell him? Even though he's responsible for this whole mess, I _was_ the one who got Roxas involved. Then again, I don't know if I can trust him to keep his mouth shut. I'll play it safe. "He got up in my face and called me out."

"Whoa. Should I expect this on the next episode?" That's his first thought? Have some consideration for _my_ situation!

"Nah, it's personal. No cameras were around."

"Is that why you're helping me then?"

I now see wisdom in the phrase. Thanks, Reno. "Something like that."

"I get it." I'm sure you don't. "In a place like Destiny Islands, respect must count for a lot. This is all about respect, right?" Yeah. Whatever you say. It has nothing to do with the possibility that my non-existent profile, which has allowed me to remain healthy throughout these years, is now in danger of being blown up on international television, guaranteeing me a life of puking misery to come.

"Sure. That's it, right on the money. Now I need to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"What happened back in Twilight Town?"

A look of horror flashes on his face and he clams up tighter than a constrictor knot. "I don't want to talk about it." It's like I poured water on a cat. It's the first time I've seen Roxas go from docile to depressed in an instant. Now I'm even more curious.

"How can I help you if don't tell me what happened?"

"Because it doesn't matter, okay? Just let it go." His face says that's the end of it.

"Fine, sorry I asked."

"No, it's just—never mind." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You can ask me anything you want, except that, okay?"

If I can trade his victory for his past, I'd do it in a heartbeat. "Sure. But just to let you know, you shouldn't keep things bottled up for too long, a secret can wind up destroying you."

"Understood. Can we just get off the subject already?"

I'd prod some more, but he might bite me. I give it a rest. "Alright, for something a little more concrete, tell me of any special skills you have."

He thinks about it hard. "I can skate."

Marginally marketable. "Are you professional?"

"I can do an ollie."

"Is that it?"

"I just skate for fun."

"I guess I can scratch that off the list of skills you can use to show off."

"I need to show off? I don't think Kairi's the type to be impressed by such things."

"How would you know?"

"I'm friends with her, in case you forgot." Boy got bite now? I'm nosy for just one minute and he gets offended by everything. Calm down, bro.

"Even if she is, that doesn't excuse you from bring a talentless hack, unless you can do something else I don't know about."

"I uh... play the guitar."

"Why didn't you say that first? Don't you know girls are saps for musicians?" It's the one constant, not just on Destiny Islands, but for the world. Chicks dig musicians.

"It's not like I'm professional or anything, I just know a few tabs."

"Just a few tabs is already a double-digit increase in your attractor factor." A guitar is an automatic attention grabber. Just carrying one leads to good things.

Roxas is in fine company. The talent gulf on Destiny Islands is massive. It's rather binary; there are those who try and those who don't, and the amount of people in the latter is immense. On this island, beauty gets you everywhere. What's the point in learning new tricks when you can coast on good looks alone? The ones who try stand out because everybody else is too busy staring in the mirror. Knowing how to play the guitar normally wouldn't work on Kairi, an out-of-towner, but if everybody else here can't play the guitar, then that changes everything.

"What kind of songs?" I ask.

"Um… love songs?"

"Good, my favorite kind."

He looks at me shocked. "I don't know if I should be surprised or not."

"How so?"

"Surprised that you like love songs, or surprised that it wasn't obvious to me. But you're the master, so it makes sense that you'd like them."

"It's not what you think." My fascination with love songs has nothing to do with sentimentality—it's the opposite. The love song is similar to an astrophysics lecture. It sounds like totally brilliant stuff, but I cannot, for the life of me, understand what it means. I can't relate to notions of love, sacrificial adoration, and intense passion. You might as well talk about black holes, god particles, and other metaphysical mumbo jumbo. It's all the same to me: nonsense. But it's beautiful and poetic nonsense. Who says I can't enjoy a good melody every now and then? I'll understand it someday.

"Which ones?" I ask again.

"Er… I don't know. The simple ones." He's being awfully cagey.

"Like?"

"Stand by Me," he answers quietly.

"The Ben E. King classic? Damn, you roll old school. That's fine taste."

His eyes light up. "I know, right?" He looks relieved.

"What's got you so nervous?"

"I don't know, I just can't wrap my head around this place at all. Everything's different, from the music, the fashion, the people—everything. I didn't know if Stand by Me would be a good choice here." His concerns aren't unreasonable, but they're still silly.

"Pay it no mind. Any girl who doesn't appreciate a classic, quite frankly, doesn't deserve to be appreciated. So where's your guitar? Did you bring it with you?"

He looks at me as if he spilled milk on the carpet. Of course, he doesn't have one. Which means... it's my responsibly.

Where the hell am I going to find a guitar?


	14. Small Victories

**Chapter 14: Small Victories  
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Ms. Aqua Holland, you are now my favorite teacher.

I love the way you teach, the way you treat me like any other student, the way you don't whip me, the way you don't threaten me, and the way your chest don't bounce in nauseating fashion. Hooray for modestly-sized breasts! You are a shining beacon of normalcy in a sea of insane! Why can't you be my teacher for all my classes? Because of you, I'm starting to like mornings. Preposterous, I know, but the beginning is the best part of my day now, and it's all because of you. You are my tranquility before the storm.

"Let's see... how about you, Sora?" Even your voice is wonderful! No trace of sarcasm, threatening undertones, or malice! Just plain professionalism, exactly what I would expect from a true master of the teaching craft. "Sora!"

I snap out of my reverie. She shoots me a cross look. Her attempt at being upset comes off more as adorable. It's like watching a baby imitate an adult. Ms. Holland is far from a baby though, and her classy outfit of white blouse and black skirt is tight enough to show off her adult curves. Her blue hair splashed over her head, giving her a refreshing and youthful appearance.

My brain is telling me I should feel sick based on past experience, but my body refuses to listen. Aqua is plenty attractive yet my body continues to truck on with no ache, no pang, and no gripe. There's no such thing as an _off _day for me. Love sickness is a 24/7 affliction. My current status is the direct result my training. All that pain is paying off, and it's what allows me to stare at Ms. Holland without any repercussions. I think I've made her wait long enough.

"Sorry, but can you repeat the question?"

She frowns. "Why aren't you listening in class?"

"I was too busy thinking about how I wish all my teachers were like you," I answer cheerily.

Chuckles break out from the room. She flusters. "There's an appropriate time and place for those comments, but not during class." The embarrassment colors her ears.

"Then they're appropriate after class?"

The class explodes in laughter.

"That's not what I meant! It's just—they're not appropriate at all!" She puffs her cheek and blows her bangs in frustration. Such cute reactions. If only you taught all my classes. If only.

"Sorry, I was completely out of line. Can you please repeat the question?"

She gathers herself. "It's fine. Let's just move on."

Hopefully, my shenanigans will deter her from calling on me again. I don't go out of my way to be class clown, but if a teacher persistently picks on me, I have to condition them to the contrary. If it means making jokes at their expense, so be it. It'll probably only work on Ms. Holland since she's new, but it's nice to exert some control over my life—even if its just first period.

I'm also letting out a little steam. This morning was frustrating. All the attention I've managed to elude last year finally caught up to me in one fell swoop. I led Roxas and Kairi to school through the normal route, going through Sky Plaza and Elysian Fields. The difference in exposure was massive. My clothes were lit ablaze from all the burning stares I was getting. The problem with the Sky Plaza-Elysian Fields route is that _everybody_ uses it. That last thing I want is to be caught in public with Kairi. At first, I thought it was just her. She probably sucks attention like a black hole, but subtle signs led me to conclude that all eyes were on me—Ms. Heartily would be jealous. I'm perceptive enough to tell the difference between people looking in my direction, or directly at me. I did a small test with my walking speed. Every time I sped up before Roxas and Kairi, people's heads turned. When I fell behind them, their sights were still trained on me. I was definitely the target. I can only think of one explanation: Riku.

What else can I expect from a guy who is constantly followed around by cameras? He probably can't take a dump without someone filming him. I expected the attention, but I didn't think it'd be so… unsettling. Imagine that feeling of someone watching you and multiply it by one hundred. I could hardly walk straight without shuddering every five seconds.

Some people are built for attention. They soak it up like a sponge. Not me. I'm more like a rock. Throw attention at me and I just get wet and slippery. I could've disappeared if I wanted to, but I was chained by my two charges. Hopefully, with a couple more trips, we'll eventually go our separate ways. I prefer dirty back alleys to scenic strolls through downtown streets and picturesque parks. The attention dried up as soon as I went solo. Detaching myself from Kairi's hip did wonders for my visibility. On my own, I can blend with the crowd, the shadows, or the bushes.

I look down at my notebook for a little review. After a good conversation with Roxas yesterday, I've put together a tentative plan to turn him from incompetent to competent. I can't realistically get a turnaround much bigger than that. There's only so much you can do in seven days, but any improvement is an upgrade over his current state.

This is a new challenge. I never thought about life outside my prison of love sickness. The cure had been my central obsession. I've been consumed by the pursuit. What will I do after being cured? Enjoy life? Get a girlfriend? The whole act of courtship is foreign to me. I can give you a clinical overview, but that's from book learning. Our schools were designed to model basic social behavior, and the best way to teach is through experience. I lack the street smarts for dating. If anything, Roxas should be the one teaching me about this stuff. It's uncharted territory.

Despite my lack of experience, I have one thing at my disposal that can help Roxas: my cleverness. In order to succeed, Roxas needs an injection of confidence. I can't afford to build it up piece by piece, I need something drastic. I need… a breakthrough. I know a thing or two about breakthroughs. Advancements are made on a foundation of failure. It's our mistakes that allow us to learn and improve. There's a world of difference between the me now and the me five days ago. How many times have I failed now? I think I've thrown up once everyday ever since I met Kairi. It wasn't for naught. In exchange for making me puke, I can now interact with other girls semi-normally. You have to lose something to gain something. For me, I just have to lose what's in my stomach.

But for Roxas, he'll have to lose… what is it again? Oh yeah, self-respect. Which is why, for today, Roxas shall suffer the exquisite pain of rejection. Repeatedly. Over, and over, and over again. To build up, you must first break down.

Some people are born confident, but for the rest of us, we have to wear it. Not everybody can bare themselves naturally. We cultivate little ticks, mental tricks, and other tactics to help us navigate through social situations. Whether we doll ourselves up with war paint, adopt a different persona, or avoid socializing entirely, we all deal with people in different ways. Roxas wears his confidence the same way a girl wears her PE clothes—thinly, with just enough to satisfy the bare minimum.

Roxas' cloak of confidence is tattered, cobbled together from one too many episodes of _Destiny High Times_. He holds on to it like a little child does his favorite blanket. Before he can truly be confident, he'll have to get used to walking around naked, stripped of his safety net, and exposed for who he really is. Today will be amazing. I can already taste his tears, and they taste delicious. I just have to wade through the five circles (periods) of hell until then.

"Are you Sora?"

I follow the voice to my right and experience a severe case of cognitive dissonance. It's weird hearing a feminine voice come from such boyish face. "Who's asking?"

"I'm Xion."

I nonchalantly turn my page and check my records. No Xion. "Did you just transfer in or something?"

"Yup."

Rosters are volatile in the first week. I have no illusions about my notebook's accuracy on the first day. As long as I keep track of the changes, there shouldn't be any problems—except, I already encountered my first one. I'm not used to being called out by people who aren't teachers. Who is this boy? Or is it a girl? I can't figure it out. You may think my perception is lacking, but you would do well not to underestimate an islander's capacity for deception. In a society as superficial as ours, there's bound to be a few gender-bending cases. Androgyny isn't taboo and fairly common around here. I can never really understand the appeal of a dude who looks like a lady, but who am I argue to argue about subjective beauty?

I've encountered some effeminate guys before, which forced me to upgrade my observational skills. In elementary school, it was a lot easier for boys and girls to pretend to be girls and boys. I was tired of making assumptions, so I made a test that would inform me of a person's true gender. There is one major flaw with this test though. If she turns out to be a girl, my love sickness kicks in even though I was just fine moments before. Perception is powerful. Here goes nothing. Initiating gender check test: "You're really cute."

Let me explain why this works. I've noticed that boys and girls have different reactions to compliments. No amount of feminine mannerism can mask a masculine response to a comment normally reserved for girls and vice versa. I look for the physical cues that operate independent of sexual orientation. There have been boys who take my comments like a champ, and there have been girls who flat-out deny my lines. Which one will it be today?

Aversion of the eyes, rosy hue of the cheeks, absence of rolling Adam's apple, and the hot ears... definitely a girl. I don't think my test is insulting. It isn't to imply that she looks like a boy; on the contrary, she's quite beautiful. It's just that I've seen guys disguise themselves up with such skill; plenty of other boys have been ensnared by unlikely traps. I wait for my love sickness to kick into gear, but nothing happens. She's definitely a girl. Why isn't anything happening?

Her shock slowly melts into disappointment. "I was wondering what of guy you were, but I didn't expect you to be so typical." Is she vetting me?

"A guy can't call a cute girl cute?"

"You think I dress this way to be called cute?" There's my confirmation. That denial is distinctly feminine. It borders on low self-esteem. Perhaps she's been burned by insincere compliments before? Her outfit is unusual for an island girl, comprised of baggy sweaters and loose jeans. It's diametrically opposed to the island concept of flashy, stylish, and outstanding. Most girls do something crazy with their hair, but this girl has it short; a rare sight on these islands. Dark raven bangs drape over her cerulean eyes. She moves a fringe out of the way to unleash the full power of her glare. "Thanks for the compliment, but I know a lie when I hear one."

If she wasn't fishing for flattery, why did she call me to begin with? "You're the one who talked to me first. How did you even know my name?"

"I heard rumors about you and the new girl, Kairi."

Damn, that was fast. Seems like Riku has about as much subtlety as Roxas. "What kind of rumors?"

"You tell me," she whispers. "What are you to Kairi?"

"Nothing. Now let me ask you the same."

"Hmph, I'm just a friend looking out for her best interests." Kairi made friends already? Never mind, dumb question. Of course, she did, she's _Kairi_. What surprises me is how a friend made in one day is already so attached to her. What can inspire such fervor in a one-day convert? There's something about this conversation I can't quite put my finger on... but what is it? "Are you okay?" she asks. "You look confused."

"Yeah I'm okay—" Wait, that's it, that's _exactly_ what's wrong with this picture! I'm okay—I'm _not _supposed to be okay! For the first time in my life, I'm having a normal conversation with a girl. I'm not thinking about escape like I usually do, instead, I'm just thinking about the conversation. Holy shit. Is it because of her appearance? Whatever the reason, I can't let this prize slip through my fingers. "We should be friends."

She looks at me like I grew another head. "Thanks but no thanks."

Rejected. I can understand Roxas' feelings a bit now, but I can't give up. "Why not?"

"Because I don't like insincere people."

I balk at the assertion. "You really need to learn how to take a compliment, girl."

She looks around as if she doesn't see me. "Oh, did somebody say something? I don't hear people who aren't my friends."

Okay, I get it. I'm going to shut up now. Jeez, no need to get uppity on me. I divert attention to my notebook. Next to her name, Xion, I jot down a couple notes.

_- Dresses ambiguously on purpose_

_- Friends with Kairi_

_- Worried about her, because of me?_

_- Has attitude and doesn't like me very much_

_- Perfect as a girl friend!_

What is irony? The one girl who I can talk to without any symptom of love sickness is the one girl who wants nothing to do with me. If only Xion and Rikku could switch personalities, then I'd be set! This is a landmark moment. This kind of result was unimaginable for me before Kairi came along, but here I am, having completed a conversation with a girl without any feeling of sickness whatsoever. Kairi... how can a girl be both extremely bad and good for me at the same time?

I'm getting better at this talking to the opposite sex thing, but for every step forward, I take a couple back. The conversation's got me thinking about my profile. Thanks to rumors, my name's already being lumped together with Kairi. This wasn't part of the deal. I'm gonna have to talk to Riku about this "leak."

I take another gander at Xion. She's completely ignoring me. I don't think I've ever met a girl who used a _compliment_ as an excuse to erase my existence. I can't tell if it's a reflection of her personality, or a reflection of Kairi's ability to inspire absolute loyalty. There's something unnatural about Kairi's rise to fame. I make allowance for exceptional individuals like Riku, but this is unprecedented. Just how high will she go? She has the potential to become the biggest star at school, and she just barely moved here. I need more information. There's only so much I can learn from outside sources. If I hear things directly from her mouth, maybe I can start untangling some of the mysteries surrounding her. Progress is a little slow though. I won't last five seconds in front of her. Fortunately, I'm getting somewhat used to 000KTP/JPG.

I close my notebook. My senses tell me to look at the door, and right on cue, it opens to reveal an unexpected visitor. What's _he_ doing here?

Don't tell me he's transferring in?


	15. Turnabout Talk

**Chapter 15: Turnabout Talk**

Call off the dogs, turn off the searchlights, and pull back the choppers—it's only Hayner.

Sorry to get you guys excited, but his appearance _was_ unexpected. Even the teacher is a little puzzled. I notice a swinging cross pendant around his neck. It's a lovely accessory—if a little cheap. I hadn't noticed it before. He spots me instantly and grins. I'm not hard to miss sitting in front, but it feels weird being recognized and smiled at. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside—is this the power of friendship? I can do without it. I'd change my mind if friendship offered more practical benefits besides a warmer belly—I hear alcohol does the same thing.

"Can I help you?" Ms. Holland asks.

"I'm here to collect the roll sheet."

He's an errand boy, that explains it. And here I thought a new development would suddenly pop out of nowhere. I'm just happy he wasn't Roxas transferring into my class or something. That would suck.

"Oh, you're the office assistant?"

"Yeah, we start today."

"I see... well that makes things convenient." She goes to the podium, pulls out a sheet, and hands it over to him. "Here you go."

He stashes it in a folder and does a small wave. "Alright, I'll be off!"

And that's the end of a very exciting scene of Hayner collecting a roll sheet. Wait. The roll sheet... that's it! I still haven't forgotten about the mystery student in my third and fifth periods. I can solve this minor mystery with just one glimpse. Thank you, Roxas, for introducing me to Hayner. Who knew this sap would actually come in handy one day? This must be the true power of friendship! Gotta take advantage of those connections. I raise my hand.

"Do you need something, Sora?"

"I need to use the restroom." A common excuse, but an effective one. Why mess with the classic?

She frowns. "You could've used it fifteen minutes ago before class started."

"I didn't feel the urge fifteen minutes ago."

"Sorry, Sora. But I'm sure you can hold it in until class ends." Is this a power play? It's probably because I clowned her yesterday. Of all the times to reestablish authority, she has to pick now? Damn it. And I was saving this line for a rainy day too.

"I'm finding it extremely difficult to concentrate right now. It's thanks to you that I have this urge. I have to seriously _relieve_ myself, if you know what I mean."

It takes about ten seconds for the implications to sink in. By the time everybody reacts, I'm already running out the door. A explosion of laughter erupts and their raucous giggles follow me into the hall. I catch up to Hayner.

He turns around when I grab his shoulder. "Sora? What's going on?" He hears the faint echoes from my class. "What happened?"

"I just told a joke." I eye his folder. "Now, would you mind giving me that roll sheet for a moment?" The question's just a formality; I grab his folder without warning. I open it and take the first page out.

"Hey, you're not supposed to—"

"Here you go." I toss the folder back to him and examine my first period roll sheet closely.

He snatches it from my fingers. "Sorry, but I can't allow you to—" Oh come on! I thought we were friends? Time to dangle some carrots.

"Olette's in my next period," I interrupt. "I'll scout her out in exchange for this favor."

"Huh?" He thinks over my preposition. "Really?"

I'm planning on doing it anyways, so "Yeah." I tug on the sheet and it doesn't budge. I stare at him. You seriously want to do this?

"Is that promise?"

"I'm a man of my word." Another tug and its back in my possession. "Thank you!" I shout sarcastically. I take out my cell phone and snap a quick shot. It never hurts to have a backup.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Just a little investigating." My eyes scan the sheet voraciously. It's set up in a grid. I search for _Xion_ in the name column. There. In red font. Xion Stoner. Not exactly the most auspicious surname, and susceptible to all sorts of jokes. I look for the name of the girl who used to sit in Xion's seat. It's in blue. So transfers are marked in red and drops in blue. I make a mental note of this and continue scrolling through the names. What the heck is this?

_GE - ************  
><em>

Two letters and a bunch of asterisks... What does it mean? What's important about these letters? G... and E... Of course! How could I have been so dumb? It wasn't the start of a name; it was just an acronym for "Gag Enrollment." Ms. Heartily isn't too bright if she mistook it for a name. This means there's a gag enrolled student in my first period. I must be slipping. How come I didn't notice it before? Actually, I think I _did_ notice… focus! What happened in my first period yesterday? It was the start of my seating chart nightmare. That's right, and I remember trying to find the best seat for a low profile, but I was kicked out. Who was it again? I remember baggy clothes, a hoodie, and a low voice. Could that have been the mystery student? Mr. Baggy Clothes? Is he the same one in my third and fifth period classes too?

I refuse to believe they'd simply name all GE-students _*******_ and call it a day. There's got to be a way to tell them apart. Voila! Student ID numbers. 3582. GE-3582. That'll be my placeholder name for now. I look over the sheet for any other interesting marks but find none. I hand it back to Hayner. "Thanks."

"No problem. So uh, tell me how it goes with Olette, okay?"

"Sure."

I return to the classroom. My exposure is off the charts. Everybody's staring at me. It's almost like they're expecting me to say something funny. Sorry, but I'm not a comedian. I want to search for GE-3582, but there's too much attention on me. I'll have to do it later. I quickly take my seat and notice that Ms. Holland is doing her best to ignore me. Excellent.

"I can't believe you," Xion remarks. "You're disgusting."

"I was just joking, you know."

"Obviously. I'm talking about your sense of humor." She shakes head. "No class."

Did she just...? She did not— My goodness. I cannot believe she actually accused me of having no class! I am the classiest motherfu— Calm down. Breathe in, breathe out. Let's analyze this carefully. She's only known me for twenty minutes, it's not like she can make an accurate assessment of my character. In those twenty minutes, what did I do? What kind of impression did I give? I jerked Ms. Holland around, called Xion cute, and left the room under the guise of _Sora's Happy Time_. Shit. She must think I'm some kind of obnoxious flirt and pervert. I chuckle.

"I guess it's true what they say, you only have one chance to make a good first impression." She grants me a curious eye. "And my first impression of you is that you're cute." The eye rolls and she returns to ignoring me.

I don't why I said that. Maybe it's because I wanted to hear those words roll off my tongue for fun rather than squeezed out under duress. It tasted differently. It tasted… delicious. How I wish we could be friends.

When class ends, I pack my bags with a goofy grin on my face. I couldn't stop myself from glowing like a giddy schoolgirl who just got asked out by her secret crush. My exchange with Xion was remarkable. Nothing was said for the purpose of evasion. I freely uttered things I never dreamed of uttering. It was liberating. I shouldn't let my guard down though. Xion is an aberration among outliers. She's a special case.

I turn around and look for Mr. Baggy Clothes. Nothing. I don't think I can catch GE-3582 after class. He'd disappear every time. It has to be a preemptive assault—a confrontation before class. I gather my things and leave. On the way out, I graze Ms. Holland and feel a death tingle skip across my arm. We exchange a look and she blushes. I _did not_ see that. I have to be more careful. She can wreck me if I get too close. Hopefully, I gave her plenty of reasons to stay away.

I jog to my next period. If I'm quick enough, I can sneak a peek at the roll sheet before class starts. I burst through the entrance and my eyes settle on the podium. I stealthily make my way over to it. GE... asterisks... are there any here?

"What are you doing?" Ms. Lockhart asks, cracking her fists casually.

I slowly back away from the podium. "I was just checking to make sure my name was spelled right."

"Is it?"

"Is it what?"

"Spelled right?"

I check the roll sheet again. "Yeah. It is." I get into my seat as fast as I can and fall against the desk. I get the feeling she just wants an excuse to punch something.

The bell rings and class begins. There are no GE students in my second period according to the sheet. That's right, I have a favor to return. To my right is Olette. A promise is a promise. Unlike Xion, Olette is unmistakably a girl. She's a cheerful brunette with emerald eyes. She doesn't really stand out. I can totally imagine her as a background dancer—attractive enough to stand on the stage but not as the star. She exudes a warm aura of modesty with her sensible clothing choices, a sleeveless shirt and khaki shorts. She's pretty enough to give me a mild case of sweat.

How to approach this? There's not much to work with. A cursory search on Moogle+ the other day yielded one Olette Di Cicco. Her profile was set to private. I could ask Hayner for access, but I was only looking for conversation fodder. What should I say? A day's greeting, a quick introduction, a joke, or a small favor? The timing for "hello" is off, since class already started. I should've said it before the bell rang. Let's cross that one out. If I throw out a joke, it has to be funny. I don't know any good ones though. Don't let that incident with Ms. Holland fool you, she just gave me too many good set-ups. I can't solo a joke, somebody has to set me up, and I can't afford to wait for an assist. Ask to borrow something—like a pen, piece of paper, or eraser? No, that just makes me look inept. It's the second day of school, asking for supplies will make me look unprepared and lazy.

They're all viable choices, but I want something outstanding. In the world of love sims, the first thing you have to do is raise that initial flag. Context is important for first contact. It has to be memorable. How many people have introduced themselves by saying "hello?" Too many. If I can make my first impression unique, then I'm gold. The first step? Just look at her. Find a special feature she alone possesses and point it out. Easy as pie. Close examination shall reveal the answer.

I've seen her shirt before, a sleeveless orange top with floral patterns. It was on sale during the summer, a buy-one get-one for 50% off deal at the beachside clothing shop. I was studying mannequins at the time, in case you were wondering how I knew that. Her clothes aren't anything special, and her shoes, a point of pride for many girls, is generic as well. On her right wrist is a bead bracelet, another item in my mental catalogue. It's made out of blue, plastic, beads and cheap twine. They're called destiny bracelets. It's an old accessory, at least five years old, beat up with minor scuffles. It's not stylish enough to be worn for fashion, which means it's probably worn for sentimentality. It's the perfect catalyst.

"I love your bracelet."

She turns to me in surprise and admires the accessory on her wrist. "Me too." She draws it close to her chest. "It was a very special gift."

Xion made conversation too easy. I have to be more deliberate with Olette. With only a few words, she's already making my back tense. "From someone special?"

She gives a wan smile. "Very." That lovelorn wistful expression is telling. I've got her thinking. Let's see if she responds to the trigger.

"Hayner's a lucky guy."

"W-what?" Her head snaps to me like a rubber band.

Suspicions confirmed. Hayner and Olette are now officially that childhood couple who think their love for each other is unrequited. I could solve the problem easily with a dose of hard truth, but I'm a bit curious as to why they couldn't figure it out themselves. It seems pretty obvious. "I said the bracelet's a lucky buy."

"Oh..." She wonders if she heard wrong the first time. "Why is that?"

Take a deep breath, Sora, and relax. You can do this. "It's a charm for good fortune in love, right?"

"Is it?" she laughs nervously. "I thought it was just a regular bracelet."

"It's called a destiny bracelet. I remember when they used to sell them. They were real popular for couples."

"I didn't know that."

Here's the kill shot. "I bet whoever gave it to you did."

Her face takes on a slight tinge of red. "Uh… I don't think… I mean… we were just kids…" She chuckles weakly. The implications are dawning on her.

I give my belly a victory massage. I think I have enough evidence for a solid conclusion. Mission accomplished. It's about time I introduce myself. "I'm Sora, by the way."

Her eyes light up in recognition. "_You're_ Sora?"

"You know who I am?" Should I even bother introducing myself anymore? It's like everybody knows who I am already.

"Yeah, I've heard some rumors about you and Kairi," she tells me.

"What kind of rumors?"

"I don't know. People are thinking that you two might be together. Everybody's trying to figure out exactly who _Sora_ is. I never thought he would be sitting right next to me."

"I'm surprised you know Kairi." How did she accumulate so much cred in so little time?

"She makes quite an impression. I only saw her once, but there's something special about her. It makes me want to be her friend!" I can see stars in her eyes. I marvel at Kairi's power. A mere mention of her name turns the meek student in front of me into a gushing fangirl. Is Kairi walking around with magic sprinkle dust or something? Why's everybody, both male and female, becoming spellbound by her?

"She's my next-door neighbor. I have to show her the way to school. That's probably how the rumors started," I theorize.

"That makes sense."

I recall my failed offer of friendship to Xion and wonder if this proposal would end the same way. "Would you like to be friends?"

The wheels in her head spin, converting my question from "strange" to "funny," and then she giggles. "Sure, I'm Olette." She puts her hand out for a shake. Crap. I've gotten better, but not "shake hands" better. No pain no gain, right? Let's do this.

I clench my stomach and steel my nerves as I reach for her hand. As her fingers wrap around mine, my nerves light on fire and my hand instantly turns into deadweight, falling limp by my side. That's what I get for being overconfident.

She stifles a giggle, "What was that?"

"That's me losing all feeling in my arm."

"What happened?"

"I touched something too hot to handle." That's the last time I try shaking a girl's hand. Maybe in another year, I can handle it.

"Huh?" She flushes as if I saw her naked. "Th-that's," she laughs nervously. "Thank you. I'm flattered._"_

Did I say something flattering? For the sake of my health, I say nothing else. She seems too embarrassed to continue anyways. I work feeling back into my hand with gentle massages for the rest of second period.

It's nutrition break. I exit the room and look around for a shock of silver hair. Where is Riku? I've got some choice words for him. It's only the second day of school and he's already screwing up my reputation. Where does a TV reality star hang out? I head to the cafeteria since where's there's food, there's people, and where's there's people, there's Riku.

I walk through the hall until an arm grabs me. What the hell? Let go! I struggle to get the offending appendage off but I'm pulled into a restroom. I'm let go and I face my attacker. How convenient, just who I was looking for! It's Riku with his arms crossed and a none-too-pleased expression on his face. "I thought we had a deal."

Funny, I'm thinking the same thing. "That's my line."

"What are you talking about?"

No need to play dumb, it's all part of your game, isn't it? "Aren't you the one spreading the rumors?"

"Why would I do that?"

_Why?_ I can think of plenty of reasons. The first is to build up my reputation so it doesn't look like you beat up on a hapless foe. Your victory will look much better against a legitimate challenger than some unknown with no cred. What better way to prop me up than through rumors? "Because it'll look better if you beat me."

He smirks like I just failed to trick him. "You can't pin an old player's trick on me."

"Old player's trick?" I echo.

"Yeah, you spread rumors about yourself and the target and use that as a platform to launch the relationship. You honestly think I couldn't tell what you were doing?" That's my first time hearing of it. It's a rather brilliant stroke of social manipulation. I wish I would've thought of it before!

"Even if I'm the one spreading the rumors, how would it help me if I'm using Roxas?" I propose logically. Try twisting that around.

"How would I know? It's your play." It's not my play, but it's clearly not yours either. If it's not Riku, then this conversation no longer needs to continue. My best exit strategy is to take the blame. I really don't want to run around in circles with this guy. "Fine, then I am. But our deal never precluded me from such tactics."

"You like to play dirty, huh?" Why is he so annoyingly good at that? He should look for a career in PR, maybe become a lawyer too. "Fine, do it your way. It'll just make my victory that much sweeter."

"Whatever you say. I'd love to stay and chat some more, but I gotta go."

My escape is only temporary since he's in my next period. Despite my assessment that's he's simply a narcissistic jerk, he appears to have a shred of integrity. Even if it's for a game as demeaning as "winning" a girl, he's quite the stickler for the rules of engagement. He took offense at the suggestion that I was somehow "cheating," and this is coming from a guy who toys with girls on international television. He may be a conceited jerk, but he's not the one spreading rumors. It goes against his code. This brings us to the million dollar question then:

If he's not the one spreading the rumors, then who the hell is?


	16. Knockaround Guy

**Chapter 16: Knockaround Guy**

An inch or two.

That's about as much space as I allow between the door and the frame when I peek into my third period classroom. This might be a little dicey. Ms. Trepe and a couple of students are camped out in their seats. Her desk is in the corner; only a short distance away from the podium. There's no way I can sneak in without attracting attention. Her vantage point covers both entrances. She'll see me the instant I step in. Considering her "special treatment" yesterday, I don't think a lame excuse about misspelled names will work.

If someone could run interference for me, that'd be extremely helpful. I don't know anyone in third period, except for Riku, but he's not exactly my most favorite person in the world. I have to figure something out. It's imperative I scan that roll sheet. I can't leave this matter alone. I realized a long time ago that information is power. I've been living under the harsh assumption that everything I don't know can and will be used against me in the court of life. I don't like being watched, surprised, or placed in any kind of vulnerable position. The only way to combat this is to watch, surprise, and place everybody else in a vulnerable position, even if it means following them without their knowledge. I know I sound like a stalker. Given the choice between stalker or being stalked, it should be obvious which I prefer. Stalker all the way, baby. Unfortunately, my insatiable curiosity is liable to get me into trouble, and I know when to err on the side of caution. This is one of those times.

"Sora!"

I turn around to the source. It's Hayner. "Hey."

He jogs up to me and smiles expectantly. "So... how did things turn out with Olette?"

My eyes are drawn to his necklace and I recall Olette's wrist accessory. What are the odds that they're connected? "That little thing around your neck wouldn't happen to be a gift from Olette, would it?"

"How did you know?"

I just put two and two together. Cheap trinkets are normally worn for sentimental reasons. If I see two friends wearing two similarly cheap accessories, doesn't it stand to reason to assume that they were exchanged between each other? "Call it an educated guess." I just got a good idea. "Mind if I borrow your necklace?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't feel like shopping for one," I answer sarcastically.

"Really?"

"Let's just say I'm conducting an experiment. Now in every experiment, there are things that we call 'constants' and 'variables.' This necklace is a variable. I'd like to see how Olette would react to you not wearing it."

"I don't get it, but it sounds like you're trying to help me out."

Bah, what's the point in explaining? As long as he gives it to me, I don't care what he thinks about my intentions. "I'll give it back to you soon, so let me hang onto it for now."

"Okay." He takes it off and hands it to me. Hm, feels familiar.

"So, besides this experiment, what do you think of Olette?"

"She's a nice girl," I state, stuffing the necklace in my pocket. I scan the hallway just because I'm paranoid. "I'm sorry to say, but she has absolutely no interest in you." He makes most terrible face I've ever seen. It's an amazing display of crushing despair. If I'd taken a picture of it, I would win awards for capturing the very essence of misery. "I'm just joking."

He lets out a massive sigh of relief. Faces shouldn't be that malleable, but I'm impressed. He should consider a career in facial acting. "Wow, you really had me there! You said it so seriously—I wasn't sure if you were joking or not..."

"To be honest, I can't tell," I lie. I'm a scientist first, and a friend second. "I'd like to see you guys together, if possible."

"What do you mean?"

"You know... just to get a feel for how your relationship with her is like. How do you normally act around her?"

His eyes tilt upward in thought. Why do people look up when they think? Are they physically trying to look into their brains? "Like normal?"

"Like yourself, then."

"Yeah, exactly."

"You don't fluster, or stutter, or turn into an idiot around her?"

"Of course not! I've known her for a long time. I'm completely comfortable around her."

"Not once, have you ever showed her the possibility that you think of her as more than just friends?"

"Well... yeah," he stammers. "I mean, if I gave her the wrong idea and she doesn't feel the same... wouldn't that screw up our friendship?" Or maybe it's exactly what she needs to see.

"That depends on how much faith you have in her." Even if they can't see their feelings for each other, usually other people can. Either they're very good at hiding their emotions, or the people here are just blind. "Have you ever told anyone else about your feelings for Olette?" He shakes his head no. "Why start now?"

"This is our last year together." But we're sophomores. My curious gaze prompts further explanation. "Olette's going to be moving to Twilight Town at the end of this year. I don't want it to be too late and lose my chance at something special. I guess you can say I'm asking you for help out of desperation." It all makes sense now. People don't move on their own. The first law of motion tells us that an object will remain in constant velocity until an external force applies pressure. What else can drive up the stakes higher than a time limit? If he never knew she was moving, he would no doubt continue cruising along and betray no sign of liking her.

"Have any of you ever had a boyfriend or girlfriend before?"

"No." Too bad. That could've been the catalyst for _some_ kind of reaction.

"I see... in that case, I got an assignment for you."

"What is it?"

"Introduce me to her later."

He's confused for a few moments. "Don't you already know her?"

"Yeah, but she doesn't know that you know me. So introduce me to her as if I don't know her."

"Alright... is this a part of your experiment too?"

"It's all part of the plan," I cackle.

"Okay then." He checks his phone. "I gotta go. I'll catch you later." He gives me a wave and runs off.

Childhood friends. The concept is more quixotic than it sounds. Westermarck alone destroys the possibility of romance for the vast majority of childhood friends. In order for the concept to survive, it also has to resist several factors; chief among them is the pettiness of immaturity. I'm surprised our cootie-infested youth didn't drive an early wedge in their relationship. Were they immune to school yard teasing and sing-song insinuations that often split up elementary school couples? Social dynamics in prepubescent life appear counterintuitive to us now, but in those days, a division between boy and girl was proper. For a young boy, hanging around girls is out of the question. He'll be called a sissy. The implication that he has a girlfriend is more insulting than complimentary.

Kids are idiots. It's a dammed miracle their friendship survived. Their resilience to such nonsense probably forged a bond so strong that it can only be compromised by the two people who share it—hence, their fears of ruining a "good thing." I haven't encountered too many childhood friends of the opposite sex that weren't related by blood—actually, Hayner and Olette are the only ones. What they have is rare. I can see why they're afraid to take the next step.

It's friendship that hides their true feelings. They can't see their mutual affection because it's hidden under layers of familiarity. If you develop love for someone you've known for a long time, you don't abruptly shift gears. You have to ease into it. You act as you always do, and reveal no trace of your true feelings. Uncertainty and insecurity pushes those feelings deeper and deeper until not even a Freudian slip can expose them.

There's something fantastic about the idea of a childhood friend turned lover. The one you've been looking for has been by your side all along. It's a very appealing and romantic thought. I think it's because it's easy. You don't have to work hard for it, it just happens. You grow into the love instead of trying to make it work. The childhood friend route is always the first choice in dating sims. There's a bevy of clichéd scenarios that follow the premise. I wonder if it applies to them. Do they often go on friendly dates that they don't think of as dates? Does one get irritated when the other expresses interest in someone else? Maybe its time to fire up the old games again.

I clench the necklace in my pocket. This is the key to the next stage. I won't have to hypothesize once I put this little trinket into action. They might hate me for it at first, but sometimes, you have to do something dirty to get things clean. I crack the door to the classroom. Nothing has changed. My best bet is come in when the bell rings and get lost in the shuffle.

Nutrition is about to end soon. I count down the seconds until the familiar ring of the bell echoes through the halls. I wait a minute or two before coming in, that's when traffic is thickest. I follow after a big group. Alright, here's my chance! I glide over to the podium only to see nothing. Where is it?

**CRACK!**

Ah, damn it, not again!

"Mr. Hikari, your seat is not behind the podium, but in front of it." Her trusty whip dangles from her hands.

I smile disarmingly and spot the roll sheet on her desk. I should've known. Not every teacher uses the podium, but it seems like the perfect place for a roll sheet. This is mission failed. Better luck next time, whenever that is. Before I take my seat, the door bursts open and lights flood the room. I shade my eyes and amidst the glare, I discern Riku's silhouette.

**CRACK!**

That almost hit me!

"What is this?" Ms. Trepe asks.

The lights move away and I can see Riku with a three-man filming crew behind him. There's a host, a camera man, and a lighting man.

The host turns to Ms. Trepe with gleaming eyes. "Did you get that on camera? We got quite an interesting character here!" I recognize him as the host for _Destiny High Times_. He has long dark hair swept to one side. It's like he faced a fan, let it blow hard, and called it a day. He wears a blue jacket with a mic clipped to his collar.

**CRACK!**

"Eek!" the man yelps. It's nice to see someone else get whipped for a change.

"All of you, out!" Ms. Trepe shouts, getting up from her desk.

Riku, unfazed by the situation, walks to his seat and leaves his crew and teacher to duke it out. So wonder boy sits in the back. Good. The farther he is from me, the better.

"Calm down, we have permission from the principal!" The host pulls out a piece of paper from his jacket. "We're under contact with the school. We're allowed to roam freely. Didn't you teachers get the memo?"

Ms. Trepe crosses her arms and approaches him, tearing the sheet out of his hand. If she's over there, that means the desk is free. This is it! I gotta credit Riku for the interference. His crew was exactly the kind of distraction I needed. I run over to the desk and scan the roll sheet quickly. 3582. Confirmed. I rush back to my seat before she turns around.

"Ridiculous," Ms. Trepe mutters. "Don't get in my way." She shoves the contract into the man's chest.

The host looks to the camera man, a tall and imposing figure with a scarred face, and makes a motion with his hand. The three-man crew enter with a trail of wires following them. A light suddenly shines on me. "So what's your name?" the host asks, holding a mic up to my mouth.

What the hell? Is this some ploy by Riku or did the crew _coincidentally_ decide to interview the first guy they saw? I turn around to see Riku grinning at me. I glare back. Did he conveniently forget the terms of our deal?

"Laguna, leave the kid alone," Riku orders. "Don't waste tape on nobodies."

I got to hand it to him, the boy got skill. Who else could comply with my wishes in the most insulting manner possible? Screw you too, buddy. The man, Laguna, nods his head. He twirls his finger and the crew begins patrolling the room for interesting characters. The class handles their presence well. Unlike me, there are plenty of others willing to be interviewed. Normal people put on their game face whenever there's a camera, but here, everybody's game face is their regular face. Everybody acts as if they're always on camera. The class doesn't skip a beat even with a crew pointing lens, mics, and lights in their faces, including the teacher. You'd think a camera would reduce the amount of whipping, for appearance's sake, but it's just the opposite. Most of it is directed towards them. That's what happens when you keeping getting in the way of Ms. Trepe.

What kind of footage are they getting? With that kind of rampant filming, they're bound to collect a bunch of useless stock footage. I better not be in it. Wait. Stock footage. That's right. GE-3582 is also here. Will he show up on camera too? I really want to check out that tape now. If I ask Riku, I might get a chance to look it over. It doesn't hurt to try.

As soon as class ends, I turn around even though Mr. GE will probably be gone. Yup, as expected. Riku is still here though, hamming it up for the camera. I walk close and do a drive-by whisper, "_Let's talk_."

"Break time," he calls out, after finishing the scene. He smoothly walks over to me. "So what is it?"

"Since you're the star of the show, do you get to review the tapes?" I ask.

"Yeah, there's a media room the crew uses. Why?" Before I can ask the favor, he stops me with his hand. "You are one filthy player, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

He grins maliciously. "Feel free to look over the tape. I got nothing to hide. You won't find any weaknesses. I'm perfect from all angles." Another patented Riku-misconception. Whatever. He gave me the go-ahead, I'm not complaining. "Laguna, this guy here is a big fan of the show. I'm giving him permission to look at the stock footage."

"Didn't you say he was nobody?"

"That's why he needs to take notes from the best. Maybe if he sees what greatness looks like, he can start becoming somebody."

"That's quite kind of you," Laguna remarks.

I love how they talk about me like I'm not even here—actually, what _am_ I doing here? I secured permission already, I have no reason to stick around and listen to this garbage. I brush past Riku and leave the room. "You're welcome!" he yells after me.

I shake my head. The guy's a dick. I briskly pace myself to next period, which is science with Branford. I enter and see the teacher behind the class, fiddling with beakers and equipment. I swoop in on the podium and luckily, there's a roster. No mystery students, no transfers, and no drops. How boring.

I take my seat in front. Ms. Branford, finished with her task, walks around casually with her hands stuffed into her lab coat. It seems like her face has one mode: eternally bored and disinterested. Out of all my teachers, she's one of the better ones. She has a dry by-the-numbers approach to teaching that I welcome. Aside from Ms. Holland, she's probably the most normal one. I can't have as much fun with her though.

"Sora."

I turn around to Rikku's smiling face. Too close! I draw back to mitigate the effects of incoming nausea, and clear my throat. "Yes?"

"How're you doing?" she greets cheerily.

Horrible. And it's totally your fault too. Is there a point to these pleasantries? "Alright."

"I got something for you." She takes out a slip of paper and holds it out to me. "Ta-da!"

I stare it warily. Don't tell me it's her phone number. I take it from her carefully, making sure that there's no contact between our fingers. I've only just regained feeling in my right hand. I look down and it's actually a ticket. In big stylish letters are the words: _The Gullwings_.

"What's this?"

She flashes her pearly whites. "Tickets to our concert, our first one!"

"Our concert?" I repeat.

"She means us," Paine cuts in. "Me, Rikku, and Yuna. We're a band."

They are? "Since when?"

"We've been practicing over the summer," Rikku explains. "The only thing we didn't have was a name, at least until you gave us one."

"The Gullwings." I can't believe they used that as their band name. I give Paine a questioning glance, surely she must've protested?

"As much as I hate to admit it, it was the best name we got," Paine confesses. "Our ideas weren't as inspired."

"Consider this a token of our appreciation!" Rikku says.

I don't know how to feel. Flattered maybe? "Thanks."

I check the date on the ticket: Saturday. "What kind of band are you guys anyway?"

Paine and Rikku exchange a look. "A rock band," they chorus. A rock band. That means guitars, drums, and a vocalist.

Guitars… guitars! I wonder— "What kind of instrument do you play?"

"Percussion," Paine answers. No surprise there, she looks like the type to beat the shit out of things.

Rikku smiles proudly. "Lead guitar."

Like manna from the skies or maybe a burning bush? This has got to be a sign. "You wouldn't happen to have any spare guitars lying around, would you?"

"Sorry." Okay, so much for that. "Are you looking for one?"

"Yeah..." Out of all of Roxas' talents, the guitar is his most bankable one. It's also the one instrument that can galvanize his confidence. We take comfort in what we know and draw strength from our specialties. Few things in this world are as pure as music. If I can get him to tap into the power of song, things will definitely turn around. I don't expect a complete personality change by the end of the week, but he'll be a lot better than he is now.

"I didn't know you play."

"I don't—but I want to learn how," I lie. They don't have to know it's for Roxas.

"I know a place with good deals. I can show you if you want," Rikku offers.

"Why not just tell me the place?"

"Because you won't get the special discount without me," she says, winking. "How about we go tomorrow?"

"I—"

"Great! It's a date then."

Ugh…my stomach's cramping. I'm not feeling too hot. Did I just agree to a date? "Uh… but—"

"I can get you a very good deal. If you're looking to learn, I can get you a decent one for cheap." Yes, keep cutting me off. That's a great way to rope me in but…

I don't really have a choice, do I? I checked the prices for guitars last night. For a piece of wood with strings, the damn things are expensive. I'm not exactly rolling in the dough either. "How good of a deal are we talking about here?"

"How does _free_ sound?" Curse you! How am I supposed to pass up a deal like that? That seals it, it's a date tomorrow. Ugh, the things I do for you, Roxas.

"Are you alright, Sora?" Ms. Branford asks suddenly.

Is my discomfort that obvious? "Yeah."

"Good. Then stop talking and start paying attention."

Before I know it, it's lunch. I roam the halls looking for the media room. In hindsight, I should've asked Riku for the location. Now I'm wandering about like a headless chicken. A hand rests on my shoulder. SON OF A BITCH. I spin around to be greeted with Laguna's grinning face. "Hey there!"

I gather myself and give him a dark look. "What do you want?"

"Don't worry, I'm on break. You don't see any cameras, do you?" No, I don't, but it's no excuse to be sneaking up on me like that. "I just saw you on the way and wanted to say hello."

"Why say hello to _nobody_?" I ponder.

He smirks. "Riku thinks he can hide it, but I know he's trying to protect you from us. I just want to know why." He won't be getting any answers out of me. "You don't know either? That's fine. You're looking for the media room, aren't you? I'm headed over there right now; you can follow me if you want." How did he know? There's something fishy about this guy. I follow him. We walk through the hallways until he stops at an unmarked door. "Here we are." He opens it and we enter. The dark room is packed with monitors, dials, knobs, and wires. Thick bundles of cables cover the floor. He picks up car keys from a desk. "Me and the crew are going to get lunch, can you keep watch in the meantime?"

I nod. He smiles and leaves. Finally! Time to go to work. I sit down before a quad display. Four screens in one, how handy. On the monitors, footage recently recorded is playing back. The timestamps have today's date. The footage from third period has to be in here somewhere. Each monitor displays footage from a different camera. There are four main stars in _Destiny High Times_, which means there are four camera crews on campus. Riku is one of them, but the show is still searching for others to fill in the void left by the graduating class. There are still three open slots. Kairi is a no-brainer at this point. It's the other two that's still up in the air.

I find Riku's monitor easily since he's the only official star. Below the screen are a bunch of dials. Hm. This one looks good. I spin it and it does what I expected it to do: fast forward and rewind. Using the timestamp as reference, I spin the footage to third period. There! I watch a familiar scene unfold, except from a different angle. I see myself standing behind the podium and Ms. Trepe getting up in anger. I fast forward until the camera starts moving around the classroom. It's pretty interesting to see class from a new perspective. I watch as the camera veers in and out of the aisles, stopping on random students for quick interviews. I keep my eyes open for any sign of the mystery student. Where are you, GE-3582?

I put my face close to the monitor, and my nose almost touches the screen. I blink. Is that…? I look at it closer and rewind. I play it back again. It's like an errant video artifact. I'm not sure if it's actually something, but it's definitely moving. I pause the video and examine it closely. It's an indecipherable black object sticking out from behind a person... like a floating limb. Which seat is that? If that's a hand, where's the rest of the body? I replay the footage again. It's pointless.

Well, that's fine. I know where the seat is now. I can try to piece together some more information by checking out different scenes with the same seat in the background. I find another angle and it's the same thing. It's like a detached limb flailing about in the background. It's kind of freaky to be honest. There's always something obscuring the full figure whether it's a person, a desk, or whatever. All I see are flashes of humanoid appendages. No matter what angle I view it from, it's the same thing: an indistinct mass of pixels that vaguely resembles a human shape. It's almost as if a ghost was caught on film.

"What are you staring at?" WHAT THE FU— I pop out of my seat and turn around. Laguna, you bastard! "Oops, didn't mean to scare you like that." Is this guy a ninja?

I'm seeing ghosts on video tape and this guy keeps sneaking up behind me. "I'm done here." I get up from the chair.

"Hold up."

"What?"

"Let me introduce myself, I'm Laguna Loire, host of _Destiny High Times_."

"I know." I step over the wires and make my way towards the door.

"Not even going to introduce yourself, Sora?" Why bother? You already know me. Why does everybody know my name now? "Don't look so surprised. I was actually trained as a journalist. Finding out your name was simple."

He probably just asked Riku. Not a whole lot of skill in that. "I'm nobody."

He wags his finger. "That's where you're wrong, Sora. You might think you're good, the best even, but nothing can escape me. I've got my eye on you," he promises.

"Good for you." But really bad for me.

I escape from the media room. What am I doing wrong here? Every time I try to go about my business, somebody always gets in the way. Is it too much to ask for smooth sailing? I hope Mr. Laguna Loire isn't thinking of putting me on TV. I get the chills. Nothing's going my way today. My legs bring me to my next period. Great, lunch went by and I didn't even get a chance to eat. Let's just hope nothing crazy happens for two more periods.

I peek inside to see a couple of students. No sign of Eyes on Me Heartily yet—probably out eating lunch. Since nobody's around, I walk up to the podium. The roll sheet lies there as plain as day. I glance over it lazily. No pressure. The number leaps out to me immediately: 3582. The laws of probability are on my side. I can safely assume that mystery person A, B, and C is really just mystery person ABC. All I need to do now is confront him. It's maddening to know that someone is there, except that you can't see, hear, or call out to him. A real ghost.

Aside from the GE student, I check out the rest of the roster. What is this? A name in bright red letters catches my attention. Since it's in red, it means that they're transferring in. No. No! NO, NO, NO, and NO!

I'm screwed. I am _so_ screwed. The new transfer is none other than—yeah, you know who:

Kairi Uchida.


	17. Star Power

**Chapter 17: Star Power**

I thought I dodged a bullet.

It turns out; it's been lodged in my head all along. Any attempt at extraction will result in immediate death. My first day as a sophomore wasn't great by any stretch of the imagination, but it had one redeeming factor: Kairi wasn't in my classes.

That didn't last long.

She already haunts me without being around, but now that she's here, my heart might explode from sheer terror. My perceptual tricks are useless against her. She is the essence of girl, distilled into one singular being, one that can destroy my entire world. It defies all laws of mental physics. How can one girl occupy so much of my mindshare? If there's any silver lining to this news—actually, there really isn't. I'm locked in a cage with a vicious man-eating grizzly. She can tear me to shreds at a moment's notice. Can things get any worse—no, hold that that thought, I'm not jinxing myself again.

"Sora!" Who am I kidding? I'm forever jinxed. She's already here. I barely had time to process the information. What an ambush, a true double whammy. I'm at a complete loss. "It looks like we're finally in the same class." Her sweet voice sends absolute shivers down my spine. That might explain why my motor functions are sluggish.

"Yeah..." I chuckle nervously. Move, body! If you do, I promise to soak you in a nice warm bath later. With great effort, I remove myself from the blasted podium. Don't look up; gotta keep eyes away from the sun. The floor is quite dirty now that I'm focused on it; let's hope I don't get it any dirtier with my stomach contents. I get into my seat and grip the edge of the desk like I'm bracing myself for a storm. It certainly feels like it. The air is charged with energy, vibrating to a low hum of excitement that gets louder as more students pour in. I'm pretty sure some of them aren't even in this class.

"Okay everybody, all eyes on me!" Ms. Heartily shouts. Her command packs a little more force than usual. It must be the competition; Kairi's stealing all her mojo. "Everybody in your seats, right now!" She's definitely annoyed. I can hear her huffing and puffing with frustration. It's nice when a teacher gets a healthy dose of their own medicine. Nice and bitter. I wish I could see her face, but my desk is a much safer sight, no matter how boring it is. "You must be Kairi."

"Yes, that's me. I'll be transferring in."

"Yeah, yeah, I already know." Ms. Heartily is acting rather bitchy. "Let's see... you can sit... all the way in the back." Yes! For once, I'm glad Ms. Heartily is an attention whore. Her inability to share the spotlight with Kairi has put a respectable distance between me and imminent danger.

"Okay." I hear Kairi's footsteps draw close. I expect her to walk past me but she pauses for just one moment. She leans in close and whispers in my ear, "_I'm not blind, Sora. I know you're trying to avoid me._"

My body locks up, my blood freezes over, and my limbs turn into immobile hunks of meat. I've seen horror movies, read creepy stories, and played scary games, but none have chilled me to my bone such as that one message. In my state of paralysis, I don't even notice that she's already left. I breathe cautiously. What does it mean? She knows I'm avoiding her? I guess it's obvious; it's hard to be subtle when a mere glance demolishes me, but she puts up such an easygoing demeanor... it's like she's playing dumb. She gives off the impression that she doesn't notice. I'm starting to think there's more to Kairi than meets the eye. All it takes is one assumption to change a person's entire character. I assumed she was oblivious to her natural magnetism, but if I change that assumption, it tells a completely different story. What if it's not natural? What if it's actually... intentional?

Crap. That thought scares me more than anything. It means she's far more capable than I realize. If that's the case... then the one who's spreading the rumors must be Kairi herself! Why would she do it though? I remember Riku's reasoning. Is she... trying to play me? Get a hold of yourself, Sora! Let's not make wild speculations here. This isn't like you! Calm down and assess the situation logically. Right now, it's best to work with what I know, and that's one thing: she knows I'm avoiding her. Nothing more, nothing less. To her, I'm nothing but a next-door neighbor. She shouldn't have an interest in me beyond that. I'm being conceited if I think otherwise.

My stomach grumbles. Thanks to my tape review session, I didn't get lunch. I hope a dry heave isn't in the cards for today.

"Now let's get class started!" Ms. Heartily says. Despite her enthusiasm, I can feel all the attention in the room swirling towards the back. Nobody's looking forward, and everybody is looking backwards. This new state of affairs has Ms. Heartily rather disheartened. She might've underestimated Kairi's star power. Things get even worse as the time goes on. "Everybody! Eyes on me!" The words fall on deaf ears. "Is anyone paying attention?"

Evidently not. Is it like this in every class Kairi's in? The students aren't even trying to hide it. They're openly gawking and talking to her as if the teacher isn't even there. The life is being sucked out of Ms. Heartily before my eyes. I have to do something, but what? Just press the buzzer and think about the answer later. I raise my hand. "What is it, Sora?" She's practically dead on her feet. Does she need attention to function? What kind of creature is she?

"Uh... I have a suggestion to help control the class."

"And what's that?"

"Kairi and I could trade seats. If she's in the front, then everybody will naturally pay attention." Nice one. Not only do I maintain a healthy distance from her, but I can get out of the front row.

Heartily's eyes spring to life. "That's brilliant!" she squeals. "Thank you!" She wraps me in a quick hug.

"**Hmmmppggh**!" I clamp my mouth shut, push her off, and ditch the classroom. I rush through the halls until I see the boy's restroom. There goes my quota. It's not a day without a proper puke. I hack out my guts. I really thought I was making progress. Silly me. It's not really my fault though. How the hell was I supposed to know that she was going to frick'n hug me? I could've used a little warning. Besides, isn't that sexual harassment or something?

The brownish chunky liquid swirls around the bowl. Nasty. I flush it down, go to the sink, and rinse out my mouth. I keep forgetting that girls and women are my enemies. Just because Kairi's the biggest and baddest one doesn't mean I can ignore the small fry. I drag my feet back to the classroom. I open the door and look at my seat. Arggghh—it burns! I shut my eyes; they're tearing up. I forgot Kairi's in my seat now. It looks like my suggestion worked, considering the enthusiasm in Ms. Heartily's voice.

"Oh Sora, come on in!" she orders. I keep my eyes trained on neutral objects like the dirty floor. "Here's your bag." She hands me my school supplies. "Your new seat is in the back somewhere."

Thanks for the detailed directions. Whatever, I can find an empty seat easily enough. My first order of business is to put Kairi behind me. I can tell she's smiling at me since my body's burning up. I can't have direct UV rays hitting me like that, so I scoot past the front row and examine my seating choices. Seating choices? Ha, that's a first. I scan for any open seats.

Then it hits me like a bar of soap in a tube sock. GE-3582! There he is, plain as a shadow in a forest. With his black clothes, he blends in with the dark corners of the room. If it wasn't for my trained eyes, I could've easily glossed him over. Great! The seat adjacent is empty. It is _so_ mine. I plop down beside him. He appears the same as I first met him, with over-sized garbs that look more like robes than actual clothes. A dark hoodie conceals his face and he wears black leather gloves. Not a single inch of skin is exposed. He's not contagious, is he? Time to solve this mystery once and for all.

"I can see you, you know." Reverse déjà vu. Kairi said the same thing to me twenty minutes ago. Mystery student doesn't acknowledge me. "3582, I'm talking to you!" His head turns an inch. I got a reaction. "That's right. I'm talking to you, Mr. Gag-Enrolled. You cannot believe the lengths I've gone just to find you." This is it. You're cornered with nowhere to run!

His leather-bound hands clench tightly. An expression of defeat? "_How did you... know?_" The voice is below a whisper, any lower and it wouldn't even register a decibel.

"Please, finding you was child's play. I'm quite stealthy myself, except I don't need a burglar outfit to hide. Up until this year, I didn't even exist." I'm quite proud of my stealth skills; I just haven't had an opportunity to use them lately. Too many distractions.

"_Please... don't tell anyone..._"

Why would I tell anyone? I just want to—hm? Haven't I heard this voice before? It's sounds familiar... where have I heard it? No way. Holy shit. Oh my god! You change one assumption, and it changes a person's entire character. I assumed he was a guy because of the universal default male designation, but he's actually "Stella... Star?"

His—her reaction gives it away—a slight recoil, but it tells me everything. "_Please... don't tell anyone_."

I can't believe it. Just as I guessed correctly that the show was _Chain of Memories _a week ago, I recalled the familiar lilt of her voice. Even as a whisper, I can pick up on that angelic tone. I never expected that the mystery student was Stella Star! For the biggest teen idol in all of Destiny Islands, gag-enrollment is absolutely necessary. She's the only person in this room who could rival Kairi in terms of pure popularity. This room is packing too much star power! This puts me in an unexpected situation. For once, I'm the one holding the cards. Her life or death in this school rests in my hands.

"Don't worry. I won't," I assure her.

She finally faces me. I can sort of see her face now. It's heavily shaded, but her night-blue eyes shine brightly. "_Do you... mean it?_"

There's no reason for me to scream out her true identity. I know what it's like to have people poking their nose in my business—for example, this whole frick'n day. "I promise."

"_Why?_"

"Why not? This way, I get to keep you all to myself," I joke. Even though I have Stella Star right here in front of me, the biggest actor on Destiny Islands television, I find myself surprisingly calm and casual. It must be her dark robes. It obscures her well. Is this the same as the Xion effect?

"_Thank you..._"

Something's not right here. I thought Stella had green eyes? "Are you really...?" I look around to see if anyone notices. Nope, they're too spellbound by Kairi. "Your eyes are different."

"_That's because... my make up..._"

I should've known. Perhaps I'm star struck and I just don't know it. "I'm pretty sure that Stella isn't your real name then. I can't very well call you that now, can I?"

She shakes her head carefully. "_That's just... my stage name. My real name is..._

"_Naminé._"


	18. Mind Speculator

**Chapter 18: Mind Speculator**

I struck gold.

Pure black liquid, gushing forth like a geyser, shoots up in the sky, bathing me in the rich dark juices of the earth. I'm set for life. The moment I found oil was the moment I secured myself from the clutches of meddling interlopers. It doesn't matter how interesting I'll become from now on or how high my profile will soar, because beside me is a god who can obliterate my entire existence with one mention of her name. Why pay earth any heed when the sun's right here?

For once, my obsessive need to know everything has paid off handsomely. Thanks a lot, mom. I might be the only person in the entire school who knows who Naminé really is. That makes me feel pretty damn good about myself. However, I can't do much with this information. I'm not a big enough asshole to blackmail her with it, and if I did, what would I ask her for? Unless she has the ability to cure my love sickness—wait, why am I assuming she can't? It might be possible... It's a long shot, but I won't know until I actually see her face. I get the feeling she's waiting for me to say something. I should probably introduce myself now. "I'm—"

"Sora... correct?"

There's something wrong when the most invisible student in school knows me. Hard to believe I was just like her a couple days ago—hidden, unnoticed, safe and sound. How fickle are the winds of my misfortune! I can spend hours, nay, days lamenting my bad luck, but you know what? I'm over it. Every time I battle my exposure, I invite more attention to myself. I should accept defeat gracefully. I don't even care anymore. If someone plasters posters of my face all over campus, I'll gladly smile for it. I'll forfeit my profile and move on to more productive things. "You know my name?"

I sorta make out a smile under her shrouded face. "It's hard not to since I'm in your first and third period..." she explains. We share a lot of classes together, and considering my antics in first period, I shouldn't be surprised. I've been acting out of character. I'm not supposed to be this flashy.

I lean into my palm and stare at her dark form. I can't say her fashion sense is too keen. It might be better to blend in with my method of absolute averages, but she's quite adept at hiding in the shadows. Where do we go from here? I think it's obvious what must happen now that I know her secret. "Do you want to be friends?"

I have two reasons for asking: first, having a celebrity in my pocket can only lead to good things, and second, Naminé meets my criteria for "girl friend." Thanks to her shady clothes, I am unaffected by her feminine charms. When confronted with the opportunity to get a girl friend without the "girl," I have to seize it. Xion's rejection still stings. I'm hoping for a better result this time.

"Friend?" She tastes the word like an exotic treat. Must I bust out a dictionary to explain to her the meaning? Perhaps it doesn't exist in her vernacular. The world of stardom is pretty different. Maybe "peon" is more familiar? "I would like that very much..." She accepts. Success! The ghost of a smile appears beneath her hood and she puts forth a gloved hand. I recall how Olette rendered my hand useless, but it should be okay this time. She's got gloves. If it still affects me, my condition might be worse than I thought. I grab her hand and shake it. I feel just fine.

I just became friends with the biggest star on Destiny Islands. I even sealed it with a handshake. She's the star that stars look up to, and I'm her friend! It's almost too amazing to be true, but my ears don't lie. I can recognize her melodic voice anywhere. Who needs Xion when I got Stella Star? But... she isn't exactly the model for your average high school girl. Can she really help me with my sickness? The reason I'm looking for a girl friend in the first place is to ease my condition, not worsen it. What if she pulls down her hood and the effect is even worse than Kairi? I gotta stop thinking so negatively and focus on the bright side. This is the first step, worry about the rest later.

"This is... the first time I made a friend," she admits.

I chuckle. Is the world of showbiz so artificial that some random kid in class who figures out her identity through proven stalker methods is sufficient enough to qualify as "friend?" She must surely be friends with her coworkers? She's either giving me the shine or her social ineptitude is on par with my own. "I find that hard to believe..."

Her shoulders droop.

"But the same goes for me," I finish. It's true; it's the first time I made a friend—with a television star. Even without the specificity of "television star," my list of friends is short. Roxas is just a knucklehead who happens to be my cousin. The only reason I'm acquainted with Olette is because Hayner asked me for help, and Hayner is just some guy that Roxas dragged into my life. I have no idea about Rikku. The other Riku's an annoying prick, and lastly, I'd like it if there was no relationship between me and Kairi at all.

Speaking of her, I look over the class. It's clear that many students are still staring at her, but there's a limit to how much you can watch a girl's back. Attention starts to wander and it'll settle on the next best thing, a chatty vivacious teacher who'll do anything to garner attention.

"Eyes on me!" she declares. If she likes the phrase so damn much, make a song out of it already. Keep up the good fight, Ms. Heartily.

"Sora...would you like to...hang out?" Naminé proposes.

How many guys would kill to be in my position? I'm guessing every boy in this school. To be asked out by Stella Star (on a friendly date) is something I never even dreamed of. Unfortunately, I have priorities, like getting a certain silver-haired monkey off my back. "I would love to, but I can't today or tomorrow."

Her shoulders roll back in disappointment. "Then...how does Thursday sound?"

"Great!" Talk about a packed week: Roxas training, guitar shopping with Rikku (not really looking forward to this one), and hanging out with a super star. This week alone contains more excitement than the last decade of my life. Man, I am such a failure. I was hoping to extend my uneventful streak even further, but Roxas had to throw a wrench in those plans. My life shouldn't be this exciting.

The bell rings and I turn to Naminé only to see an empty seat. How does she do that? She has to teach me that stealth exit some day. I quietly shuffle out the backdoor before Kairi notices.

After a brisk walk, I'm safe. My next class is PE. Can't say I'm looking forward to running laps again. I go into the lockers and get assaulted by the stench of expensive cologne and deodorant. To think they paid so much to smell so bad. I open my compartment and change out of my clothes discreetly. It's not hard blending in with a bunch of bare-chested guys. I exit out onto the hardtop and place myself in the small congregation that waits for the PE teacher to arrive. The afternoon weather is nice. The full force of the sun has passed and all the morning chills are gone. It's warm and breezy.

Ms. Farron—excuse me—Lightning finally arrives. She gives us a stern look, probing for any sign of weakness like a drill instructor looking for new material.

"Sora," she calls.

Why'd she call on me? My back's straight as a ramrod. "Yes?"

"Your hair is brown."

And yours is pink. "Yes."

"And it's spiky."

Outstanding observational skills, did you use your eyes for that? I applaud you madam. "Yes."

"I don't like kids with brown spiky hair. Go run a lap."

"What?" I get laps for my natural appearance? What kind of new standard for BS is this?

"Make that two laps," she appends.

Unbelievable.

I jog out before she can find an excuse to tack on more laps. This is discrimination! What's wrong with being a spiky brunet? Did she get jilted by one? Maybe that one teacher, Terra (not to be confused with Ms. Branford), rejected her? I remember Terra from last year. I did an amazing job in his class. It mostly had to do with the fact that he was a guy (not in _that_ way you freak), allowing me to concentrate on my studies at full power.

Whatever reason for Lightning's discrimination, it's absurd.

I stumble back into the group and she gives me a suspicious glare. "Two more laps." Her eyes are just begging me to say something in response. Sorry Lightning, but Sora don't play that game. I run my laps before she gets too excited with her powers of addition.

Perhaps it was my miserable face or she just got bored, either way, she relented after making me run eight pointless laps. If I wasn't going to be so busy with Roxas after school today, I definitely would've filed a complaint. Crazy bitch.

I change back into my dull everyday clothes and send Roxas a text to meet me at the front gate. It's finally time to initiate phase one:

Rejection Desensitization.

This is going to be fun.

As soon as I see him, I leave, forcing him to catch up with me. That's what you get making me wait.

"Wait up!" he pleads. How about you hurry up instead? Time's a wastin', and I want to get out of here before Kairi arrives. She'll probably be looking for another escort mission home. "Where are we going?"

"Starwalk," I answer. It's the best place to practice this kind of thing. Starwalk has the greatest density of pretty girls of any strip of land in the world, a mile long stretch with an amazing concentration of one pretty girl per ten square feet. Considering that the boardwalk is twenty feet wide, that's at least ten thousand hot girls on a normal day.

"What are we going to do there?"

"Training."

"What kind?" The questions never stop coming with this kid.

"Tell me, what's the number one obstacle when it comes to asking a girl out?" I ask.

"I don't know?" That answer was too quick, at least put some thought into it.

"Are you even trying? Have you ever asked out a girl before?"

"What about you?" he deflects. I'll take that as a "no."

"Never had to," I answer truthfully. I was never interested due to health concerns. Asking a girl out was the same as drinking lumpy milk—both would make me extremely sick and throw up.

"Then what do you know about—oh, I get it. You never had to because they did right? Must be nice to be asked out instead of doing it yourself." I thought about refuting his assertion but...it actually happened today—twice. I have such mixed feelings about that.

"Back to my question..." Experience isn't even necessary to find the answer. All one needs is common sense to deduce it. "The biggest obstacle is fear."

"Fear?"

"Yup, and the only way to get over it is through experience." Roxas makes a face to respond but I cut him off, "And in the absence of experience, you have to substitute it with practice."

Starwalk is quite a special place not just for its dense beauty, but for all that goes along with such intense attractiveness. It takes a stout heart to mine the area for dates. The girls here are the kind who have mastered rejection by gaze. All it takes is one look and you'll immediately understand just how out of their league you really are. I thought about putting on a cardboard sign that said "Please go out with me" on Roxas to ensure maximum rejection, but that probably classifies as cruel and unusual punishment. I'm not that brutal, although I would love to throw him into the stampede just for kicks.

Even though he's been here for weeks already, Roxas is still captivated by the scenery. The palm trees are rather distinctive. Faux huts and straw thatching become more apparent the closer we get to the beach. I never understood the artificial island styling. Why try to get tourists to buy into the atmosphere when they're staying at five-stars hotels equipped with the latest amenities and modern trimmings? He's avoiding my gaze. Fine, look at the buildings all you want. Maybe it's his coping mechanism, an attempt to distract himself from uncertainty. For all he knows, I'm leading him into the lion's den.

The sparkling ocean greets our eyes, rising as we descend from the hill. A few more blocks and we'll hit the training grounds. The air tastes salty. If all goes well, the sodium content of the air will increase significantly.

"What exactly am I going to be doing?" he asks nervously.

My sinister chuckling must've tipped him off. "You're going to be rejected."

"W-what?"

"In order to overcome the fear of rejection, you must first experience it; suffer through it repeatedly, until it no longer affects you."

His jaw's wide open. Does he not believe me? "You cannot be serious."

"That kind of attitude right there is exactly why this is necessary. You're already afraid and you haven't even done anything yet."

He bows his head in shame. "Y-you're right."

You don't have to tell me what I already know.

Finally.

Here we are.

Starwalk.

He takes a look at the eye candy walking around. "I don't think I can do this," he whispers. Despite the carefree smiles of beautiful women, there's an oppressive aura, a darkness lurking behind every grin. This is...

The class distinction.

This is a place where a man can figure out his place in the food chain, the hierarchy of humanity. We fear that we may find ourselves less than human, substandard, or worse than trash. The only thing we can take comfort in is our ability to watch. It's window shopping. We know there's no way in hell we can afford it, but nothing can stop us from looking. Who knows, maybe the storekeeper will be kind enough to give us a free sample. Let's ask the clerk for the price before deciding it's out of our range first.

"Put those fears aside because we're gunning for the lowest common denominator."

"What?" he replies incredulously.

"You're scum now, act like it."

He waves his hand in a panic. "I don't get it!"

Why can't I just throw around vague statements and have people instantly understand where I'm coming from? "I want you to go up to random girls and ask them for their phone numbers."

"Impossible!"

"What is? To try or to pull it off successfully?"

"B-both."

I shake my head disappointedly. "They're not the same. The important thing is to try. The goal here is to fail. It's not as bad as your mind makes it out to be. The sooner you can deal with rejection, the better off you'll be."

"So you're saying I should just walk up to some random chick and say, 'can I have your number?'"

"Pretty much. Introduce yourself before asking for her number though."

"Don't I get any secret pick up lines?" he whines.

"First of all, there's no such thing, and second of all, the purpose here is to fail. You might as well get straight to the point rather than delay the inevitable."

On the off chance a girl actually gives him a number; it'll be a major confidence boost. Aim for failure but manage to succeed? If it happens, it'll definitely be a bonus, but the lesson here is to overcome bad expectations.

"Aim to fail then...just go out and ask. It doesn't matter if I get rejected..." he mutters. "Okay!" His eyes settle on a girl leaning against a storefront. "Should I talk to her?"

"Yes." Do it! I want to see a spectacular rejection here!

He rubs his hands together and tries to psych himself up. "I got this...I got this…I got this!" He blows on his palms. "Here I go...I'm going…I'm actually doing this." He takes one step forward and spins around. "I can't do this!"

My head sinks. "You're a coward."

"I know...I mean, even if the purpose is to fail, it's a lot harder than it sounds. I don't want to get…embarrassed."

Embarrassed? Such paltry things no longer affect me. My love sickness is stronger than any prospect of embarrassment. "Get over it."

He grimaces at the painful truth. "Do you think you can show me?"

"Show you how to get rejected?"

He nods.

Ugh, I'd like to avoid throwing up if possible, but his desperate eyes implore me. The things I do for this fool. "Fine."

My eyes lock onto the target, a fashionable girl standing in front of the store. She's probably waiting for friends or a boyfriend. People, pretty or not, hate being bothered when they're waiting. There's a strong possibility of rejection simply because she's alone.

She notices me as I walk up and my face instinctively smiles. It's a habit, an automatic response to pain. Some people laugh or cry, but I smile instead. Fortunately, this girl is rather dim. Knowing that this girl is nowhere near Kairi's level brings a legitimate grin to my face. I'm used to averting my gaze because of the pain, but this is one of those rare moments where I can look straight into her eyes without any ill side effects. It's the first time I've been so close to a girl.

She's the one who breaks eye contact first. "C-can I help you?" Is she getting flustered? I suppose I got carried away with my staring.

"My name is Sora. Can I have your number?"

Her eyes widen. "Why?"

Foolish girls and their foolish games to make a fool out of me, I hate it when people answer "3" to a binary question. A simple yes or no would suffice, but ask and ye shall receive. "There's only one reason for a guy to ask a girl for her number, and that's to call her later on, and this call is usually for setting up an intimate date between the two interested parties, initiating the process we know as courtship, a prelude to having and maintaining a relationship in a possible romantic sense, or maybe, I just thought you were cute, but hey, some of the best couples in the world have started from a lot less."

She is speechless, but her shock slowly melts into giggles.

"There you are! Did you wait long?" a guy greets from the crowd. Recognition flashes in her eyes. The boy, who I presume to be her boyfriend, turns to me, "Is this guy bothering you?"

"You're finally here," she says relieved. "This is Sora. He just kept me company for a short while."

"Really? Well thanks," he offers shallowly. He grabs the girl's hand and shoots me a suspicious look. "Let's get going." They disappear into the crowd.

I don't think that counts as a formal rejection. If she already has a boyfriend, why not just say "no" right off the bat?

I'm just about to turn around when I notice something stuck to the window. A post-it? I tear it off and find a name with eleven digits on it.

"Holy shit," Roxas says over my shoulder. "You got her number even though she has a boyfriend?"

"Huh. I guess I did. Sorry about that. I'll do better next time." What the hell? I don't really understand how that happened. Was I too straightforward? And I thought attacking a lonely girl would be perfect grounds for dismissal. Things tend to get uncomfortable when it's one-on-one. It's why they say it's better to approach girls when they're in groups. They won't know who you're trying to hit on, thus alleviating the pressure on them. By giving them the numbers advantage, you appear less threatening. This was just a fluke.

I scan around for my next target, or should I say _targets_. I can't think of a better way to be rejected than to be rejected en masse. Best way to strike out is to get three strikes at the same time. I spot a trio of girls sitting at a table in the outdoor courtyard of a restaurant. A black metal railing serves as a divider. A giant umbrella keeps them under shade.

"Over there," I point out to my charge.

"Whoa, seriously?"

I answer by walking up to the girls. I lean my arms against the divider and smile. "Hi, my name is Sora. Can I have your numbers?" I would imagine that a triple threat would be enough to get my body to react, but it doesn't. Now that's something to smile about!

The girls stop what they're doing and turn to me. "Which one of us are you talking to?" one of them asks.

"All three of course."

They burst out laughing.

"Pretty interesting isn't he?"

"He's not too bad looking."

I have a feeling that I've just been rendered invisible. They make a few catty comments before leaning their heads together. They whisper amongst themselves. This had better be a chorus of rejection.

They finally break up and one of them turns to me. "That's the first time a single guy has ever tried to get all of our numbers at the same time."

"How audacious of me," I deadpan. Say "no" so I can move on already.

She hands me a card. "Nope, how lucky of you," she winks. One girl whispers in the other's ear, prompting a circus of giggles.

A hand pulls me backwards and they wave me goodbye as I escape into the crowd.

"Did you just get all their numbers at the same time?" Roxas shouts. He plucks the card from my hands. "You are...A GOD! I'm sorry I ever asked you to get rejected. It's impossible for you, right? Like asking a bird not to fly. You make everything look so natural and effortless!" He's literally bowing to me on Starwalk.

"Dude, get up already! You're attracting attention!" None of this makes sense. How could all my calculations be so off base? I thought my rejection was guaranteed? I look at Roxas who, after getting off the ground, seems revved up. I guess my success is inspiring him in his mission to fail. That's all that really matters. "Are you finally ready now?"

"Yeah! I got some real good motivation!"

It's not often I get to see such earnest enthusiasm. His energy is infectious. "Great! Now go out there and get rejected!"

He sets off for the first girl he sees. This exercise is designed to go against our natural instincts. We're always trying to jockey for advantage, get the variables just right, and increase our statistical odds of success. Whether it's through pick up lines or tired routines, we have to discard that fluff and put ourselves out there as plainly as possible. Like any simulation, there are rules that govern the battlefield. The goal here is to solicit a rejection. Being ignored doesn't count. He has to actively go out of his way to procure a definitive answer to his proposal. It's nice to see that he recognizes that. You can't just go for girls walking by, moving targets are too hard to hit, you have to go for the stationary ones.

He goes to the same restaurant I was at earlier, except he comes in from the opposite side. There are two attractive girls sitting near the rail. "Hi girls. M-my name is Roxas. Can I have your numbers?"

"Ehh? Did you hear something?" one girl asks.

"I think it might be the guy behind you," the other point outs.

The first girl who spoke turns to him. "Sorry boy, but you're bothering us. Can you leave us alone now?"

His smile cracks. "Oh, okay." He sulks back to me.

"What are you so down for? It's mission accomplished."

"I know but...it hurts to be rejected," he says solemnly.

We move off to the side to avoid traffic. "Is that the first time you got turned down by a girl?"

He nods tentatively.

"That's good. It's better that your first rejection comes from some girl you don't care about rather than someone who really matters. To be turned down by your first love? That would psychologically scar you for life, the kind that leaves you miserable for weeks, if not, months or even years."

"How do you know all this?"

I don't. I'm just making it up as I go along. "It's just common sense," I dismiss. "I want you to focus on that bad feeling of rejection and feed off it. Turn that negativity into positivity! Go out there and get rejected once more!"

Statistically, he should've at least gotten a single hit. Sure, there are several factors against him, such as his overall lack of charisma, but its not like his chances are completely zero, but after many attempts, he was an impressive 0 for 25. What are the odds? One of the girls should've at least given him a fake number for some semblance of victory.

I was getting worried after the first ten rejections. He kept stammering and stuttering, which only lead to brush offs, rolling of the eyes, and snide remarks. Although he tried to hide it, he was visibly affected. After the sixteenth rejection, something in him just snapped. It was his pride. Instead of feeling miserable, he got angry. Not at the girls, since I won't be party to the birth of misogyny, but anger directed at himself. He clenched his fists and gave me an unnerving stare. I knew what it meant:

_I don't give a fuck._

That's when he realized how trivial the whole affair really was. I'm not trying to devalue the act of asking a girl out, but unless the girl really means something, there's no point in getting hung up on rejections. Once he grasped this concept, he went out there, let himself go, and got rejected like a boss. It didn't even faze him. He took the hits like a champ and held his head high.

After a long day's work, we're enjoying a refreshing glass of lemonade on a bench.

"I feel so liberated!" he acknowledges. "I don't even know what I was afraid of this entire time."

I sip on my icy citrus drink. "Can you ask Kairi on a date now?"

"Well..." He scratches his head and chuckles. "I think that's out of my range still."

I genuinely laugh. "That's fine. Radiant Garden wasn't built in a day."

He replies with a gulp of his own drink. "I think I'm starting to get it now. It's about confidence. At first I was afraid to fail, but after awhile, once the sting wore off, I became confident that I _would_ fail."

Er…not exactly what I was going for, but whatever works for you.

"After I realized that, the way I was being rejected definitely changed," he revealed.

"How so?"

"They did it honestly and without making fun of me!"

I sink my head into my palm. Don't say it like you're proud of it, fool! But still... "Nice job."

He finishes his drink in one massive gulp and looks at the river of flowing hotties in front of us. "I'm ready for round two!"

I smile earnestly.

There may be hope for him yet.


	19. For Nothing

**Chapter 19: For Nothing  
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A dramatic moment.

Senses achieve levels of hyperacuity, time slows down to a crawl, field of vision widens, and the tiniest vibration registers as a sound. None of this actually happens in real-time; it's only upon reflection that these effects are noticeable. Scientists call this phenomena "flashbulb memory," a class that is pure and crystallized in its recall, often associated with moments of intense emotional stress. Modern research has long discredited the concept, finding that flashbulb memories are no more immune to error than "normal" ones, but the reason for its "clarity" is because we constantly obsess over it, recalling the moment over, and over, and over until it's deader than a dead horse. I like to think that the sensation of acute awareness is simply the result of watching too many movies. The only thing missing in real life is the gut-wrenching string orchestra choking their instruments to death. You can say that life is full of dramatic moments, but if the world slowed down for every little one, we would never make it to tomorrow.

It'd be great if it did, because life doesn't slow down to give us room to breathe. Blink once and you're already six-inch deep, with one foot out the door and the other trying desperately to stay inbounds. When something bad happens, it usually hits hard and fast.

Which is why, by the time I see her, it's already too late.

Damn.

What the hell is _Xion_ doing here?

I bet you thought it was going to be Kairi, huh?

The circumstances couldn't have been any worse. For the briefest of moments, a path in the crowd opened up between her and Roxas. This bizarre occurrence naturally drew his gaze towards her, and with her soft and handsome features, he had no choice but to try and ask her out. Normally, he wouldn't have the courage to do so, but his frame of mind did not pay heed to the prospect of failure—no, that's wrong—his mind was in _total anticipation_ of failure. It was only this certainty that allowed him to approach her so casually, so cool with confidence, convinced that the end result would be the same as the previous thirty.

If Xion sees me here with Roxas, she'll definitely tell Kairi about it and expose my game. Riku will call shenanigans and give himself the win by default, immortalizing his victory in the annals of _Destiny Island Times_. I will permanently be branded as the "guy who lost to Riku on television." I could live with that, but what I can't live with, is the fallout that follows after Kairi finds out about it. If she's already getting up in my business because I'm ignoring her, what the hell is she going to do if she finds out I'm trying to hook my cousin up with her? I cannot fathom the depths of that terrifying thought.

Allow me to reemphasize how crippling my condition really is. It doesn't seem like you're taking the pain and suffering I have to go through on a daily basis seriously enough. When I am near a girl, I become sick. I'm not talking about a mild discomfort here—I'm talking about an on-the-verge of death and hell experience. My body begins producing all manner of unpleasant secretions: excessive sweat, saliva, and mucus—not to the mention the oral discharge of bile, stomach acid, and undigested foodstuffs. Stomach cramps feel as if razor blades are being pushed through my intestines. My head lies under siege from dizzying waves of pain. Blood flow is cut off from my limbs, and a numbing, paralyzing sensation unlike the cold grip of death embraces me. My consciousness starts to fade and the last thing I remember is pure agony. My love sickness is a horrible affliction that I wouldn't even wish upon my _worse_ enemies.

It is the pain I have suffered, the pain I suffer, and the pain I will suffer, that informs every decision I make.

Even if Xion is an independent party who has nothing to do with Kairi beyond mere admiration, I cannot afford to take any chances. My first thought is to hide, but that's when my dramatic moment comes. Everybody around me becomes a shadow, a faceless and amorphous silhouette. The sun fades behind a thick veil of gray, but a hole is wrenched open in the skies, and a narrow beam of light shines on my cousin. It dawns on me that I'm here with Roxas.

Roxas.

It's a crippling realization.

He can never read a situation well. His capacity for subtlety is about as low-key as a nuclear explosion. At the slightest prod, he'll fold and spill out his guts, confessing everything except for the goddamned thing that has him so tightlipped since Twilight Town. He's the kind of guy that will tell you far more than you ever wanted to know. I pray for that tiny percentage that has him keeping his mouth shut about me.

I slide around the moving bodies on Starwalk to make my way towards a recess. It's a small alley between buildings but it provides solid cover. I back up against the wall and peek over the edge to see them talking. Time to just wait it out. I pull myself back and slide down until I'm squatting. Staying low should minimize my presence.

Now that I look around, this place is dirty. A large dumpster sits a couple feet away from me and piles of refuse are scattered around. Discarded wrappers, cardboard boxes, and cans lie quietly, swept aside from the mass of stampeding feet beside me.

Hopefully, Roxas just hit on her and got rejected, and that would be the end of that. Worse case scenario, she recognizes him. With recognition comes curiosity, and with curiosity comes attention, and with attention comes a retching session.

What are the odds that she just happened to be here? I believe in coincidences as a substitute for fate, but when things are this convenient, volition is the better answer. Could she have followed us from school? Why would she? Maybe she's spying on us? I don't know what scares me more: that I'm this paranoid or that it might actually be justified.

My eyes settle on the texture of the concrete below. From up high, it appears to be an indistinct gray, but when I look closely, I can see all sorts of patterns. Scratches, striations, and scuff marks tell a tale, make a mark, and impress a past upon a place. I look deeper in the alley and wonder if anybody has used it to hide like I have? Perhaps this place has served as an area of exchange for seedy merchandise—or even worse, maybe an adventurous couple—or a heavily intoxicated one—engaged in illicit activities, making that stain on the wall a lot more interesting than it has any right to be.

My inane musings are interrupted when a shadow falls on me.

"So this is where you are." It's a distinctive voice, husky, laced with a hint of feminine high, like an experienced voice actress doing the role of a teenage boy. It's actually kind of sexy.

I look up and see Roxas standing beside Xion, feeling pretty proud of himself. What's he acting all smug for? I show him a dirty look, the filthiest one I can muster, concentrating all my disappointment, shame, and bitterness with one withering glare. "Why'd you bring her here?"

He's caught off guard by how I offended I sound. "She said she knew you, and since you're here, I thought you would like to meet each other." Just because someone says they know me doesn't actually mean they know me, and even if they did, you don't lead then straight to me without checking with me first! I pray he doesn't do the same when he meets a psychotic serial killer.

"You're supposed to get rejected, not bring me strays." He didn't bring any of the other girls who rejected him over to me, why start now? Unless Xion instigated it, but even then, he has to show doubt, not go along with it.

"And who's a stray?" Xion rudely butts in.

My eyes shift to her. She's still dressed in the same unflattering combination of baggy clothes. I'm impressed that Roxas was able to recognize her as a girl—unless there's something he's not telling me about. "If you wanted to be my friend, you should've accepted my offer before. No need to stalk me."

"An offer?" Roxas repeats.

She laughs sarcastically. "Ha ha ha. I assure you, this is just a coincidence. I wouldn't want to be friends with someone like _you_."

"Someone like me? What's that supposed to even mean?" I'm sure she queued up an insult to follow after such a vague tail-end and I shouldn't have fallen for it, but I'm eager to see what she has up her sleeve.

"You're a corrupting influence," she accuses.

"Excuse me?"

"Roxas told me about your little _exercise_. How much more demeaning can you get?"

I give Roxas a hard stare. Way to spill the beans. Why would he even say that? You don't let the girl know that you're only using her for practice! He's either honest to a fault or just a special brand of retarded.

"She recognized me! I couldn't let her think that—"

"I get it."

The value of my exercise lies in Starwalk and its immense foot traffic. It's easy to crash and burn in front of anonymous girls who'll probably never see him again, but pull that stunt at school and it becomes a whole new minefield of problems. If people saw him doing that at school, they'll talk, and that will talk will follow him everyday. A life rife with rumors sucks. It's understandable that Roxas wanted to avoid that, but not at my expense, please.

Xion turns to Roxas. "Kairi told me about you, said you were a good friend. I think your heart's in the right place, but you're a little naive."

"You can say that again," I mutter.

She ignores me. "Which is why you should stop hanging out with Sora," she warns.

Where does she get off on spouting this crap? "Now wait a moment," I interject as I stand up. A few cards slip out of my pockets. They both stare at the ground.

"Your numbers..." Roxas calls out.

Xion picks one up, reads it, and shakes her head. "I was right, you _are_ a player." When did I become a player all of a sudden? All I did was call her cute, and that was just to determine whether she was a boy or girl! Might as well brand any complimentary male mouth a player. The ridiculous leaps in logic here are astounding. This must be some kind of willful ignorance.

I laugh at the assertion. "Player? Me? Sorry, but I'm the furthest thing from a player."

She glares as if she doesn't believe me. "Your cousin and these numbers say otherwise," she states, waving the card in front of me. Oh come on! Roxas is easily fooled and those numbers are probably fake anyways! Repeat something enough times and it might actually become true. It's called a self-fulfilling prophecy. Xion's not the first to accuse me of being a player, and probably not the last.

Nothing I say will change her mind. "Believe what you want."

She addresses Roxas, "If you really want to know how to talk to girls, you shouldn't be following his lead. Only idiots fall for pick up lines."

Except it's not about picking up girls, it's about changing the initial impulse, to turn "I'm going to get rejected so why bother" into "I got nothing to lose so why not?" It's a perspective shift, conditioning self-defeatism into opportunism. How can a man land if he's too afraid to touch the ground? You teach him how to crash and burn first. Most guys can't even take that first step. They chicken out the moment the thought enters their mind. It's only my passive supervision that forces Roxas to realize the plain and simple truth—that rejection ain't shit.

"It's to build confidence. I won't let you spit on my program." You know how many minutes it took me to think up this exercise? At least ten!

She waves me off. "Oh please, I've seen the same thing before. It's just a routine for you, a form of deception to spring on unsuspecting girls," she says bitterly.

"Did you get tricked one too many times or something?" It might explain her allergic reaction to anything resembling a "player."

She gives me an offended snarl.

"Please, let's not fight because of me," Roxas says in attempt to diffuse the tension. We both give him a blank look. We're not fighting because of _him_; we're fighting because of _me_. "Xion, even if he _is_ a player, he's my cousin, and the only guy on Destiny Islands willing to help me out."

For once, Roxas brings up a good point. "I don't know what your problem with me is, but I'm all Roxas has got. So unless you got a better idea, he's doing what I say."

She pouts.

That shut her up. This is my victory.

She crosses her arms and looks at Roxas with poor pitying eyes until it lights up fantastically. She turns to me with a determined gaze. "What about me?" she says.

"What about you?" I quip. Is this some last ditch effort to save face? It's too late; you've already admitted that I'm the only option Roxas has! "Accept it. You have no place here. Just leave us be and continue your player-hater ball somewhere else."

She locks eyes with my cousin. "I can teach you how to talk to girls."

He's taken back by the offer.

Hell, _I'm_ taken back by the offer. What's she thinking? I snort. "Seriously? What do you know about talking to girls?"

"Maybe because I _am_ one?" Not according to my body. Damn it girl, we could've been friends, we could've been something special, but no, you just had to screw it up with your prejudice against players, and I'm not even a player!

"Coulda fooled me?" I joke. "On second thought, you must be real popular with the ladies. Effeminate guys are all the rage nowadays. How can they resist your boyish charms?"

She scoffs and gives Roxas a sincere smile. "Don't listen to this jerk. If you really want to understand a girl, it only makes sense that you learn from a real one. A girl's heart isn't something you can unlock with a couple lines."

Roxas is torn.

Why so conflicted? The choice should be—wait just a damned second here. Why am I resisting? Can this actually be a good thing? Xion hasn't made the connection as to _why_ Roxas is even practicing rejections in the first place. As far as she knows, I'm just "corrupting" him, and despite how erroneous that assumption is, it can work to my advantage. Let's make the choice easy for him. "Do it," I urge.

His eyes go big. "What?"

"You should listen to what she has to say. When you realize how ineffective it is, you can go back to me," I explain.

"But—"

"I insist." My hands grip his shoulder encouragingly. I shoot Xion a look and she returns it with confusion. "You don't know me as well as you think you do."

She wouldn't have any of it. "Are you trying to show off? He won't come back to you."

That's what I'm going for! "I'll see you later Roxas, have fun!"

He tries to say something but why go against the flow? The situation demands that he go with her. I disappear into the crowd before he can change his mind.

Now why did I hand Roxas over so easily?

It's because she's right. She's a girl. She's the best candidate to school him in the ways of girls, and even better, she's a friend of Kairi. That's an advantage. I have no place teaching him about anything related to girls anyway. Just because he's seen me get lucky a couple times doesn't mean I'm qualified. I never asked for this. I was only trying to get Riku off my back. With Xion's help, Roxas has a better chance to connect with Kairi than Riku, and if he succeeds, then this silly game will end and I can go back to my normal life. The less attention I have, the better I can focus on curing my condition. I would've been well on my way if it weren't for these damn distractions.

I'm a little worried about Xion, but I seem to be the focal point of her suspicion. Roxas seems to be innocent in her book. Whatever. Less work for me. It actually solves the problem of tomorrow and Thursday. I can't help him on those days because I have a date—two of them actually. My god, what have I gotten myself into? It's the flow. It's hard to fight against the current; it's why I've always avoided it. Once I jump in, I'll get swept away. It's only been a month since Roxas dragged me into the river, but the current has taken me far away from my original destination. If Roxas is the one who dragged me into the water, than Kairi is the one who makes it flow. Should I let myself drift away or should I fight against it?

I was never good at swimming.

After a twenty-minute walk, I reach home. I cut through the lawn, fiddle with my keys, and enter. I close the door behind me and notice someone watching TV in my living room.

"You're finally back," Kairi greets, sitting comfortably on my couch.

Wait.

Kairi?

On my couch?

Wearing an outlandishly skimpy tank top that offers a much-too-ample view of her delicate shoulders? What happened to her skirt? Why have they turned into short shorts, exposing way too much of her smooth and creamy skin?

Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!

I dash up the stairs quickly and fly into the bathroom. It's amazing what can happen over the course of two seconds. I'm standing by the door one moment, and the next, I keeling over a toilet bowl, sharing an intimate moment with its cold porcelain body, with my mouth wide open:

"**UAARRGGGHH**."

The lemonade I drank earlier reverses course and spills into the bowl. A couple more spasms wrack my esophagus before I resign myself against the bathtub. Bile usually has an acrid lemony taste, but since I threw up actual lemonade, the stench is more sour than usual.

What is Kairi doing here? What ungodly reason does she have for infiltrating my secret place? It's one nasty surprise after another. Is that my second time throwing up, or is it my third? I lost track. Can this day get any worse?

Damn it.

Why did I say that when I _know_ that Kairi is in my house? Of course it can get worse!

**Knock, knock, knock!**

"Sora, you in there? Are you okay?" her sweet voice asks. It's a sickening high pitch, sweet and saccharine, dripping with enough worry to unsettle me—and my stomach.

"Ugh...yeah, I might take awhile. Maybe you should head on home," I excuse. I push myself up and find the air freshener. I squeeze out a couple sprays and a cloud of scented particles assaults my face.

"Maybe we can talk, then?"

"Um, this may not be the best time," I rebuff. I will not have a conversation while I'm in the bathroom—that's just _weird_.

"This may be the _only_ time." She's got me cornered like a rat and she knows it. I need to make some kind of window for escape.

"Fine, give me five minutes."

"Okay."

I wait for twenty seconds but I don't hear any evidence of her leaving. "Are you still out there?"

"Uh huh." Is she standing guard? Son of a—is there any way I can get her out of the here? I search around the bathroom for anything that can help. I look down and my puke is still there. Soggy bits float around helplessly. I flush it down. Okay, now what? I catch sight of the toilet paper. Of course, the toilet paper!

"Kairi, can you do me a favor?"

"What do you need?"

"I ran out of toilet paper. We keep all the rolls in the downstairs bathroom. There's a cabinet there, can you open it and get me one?"

She doesn't answer for awhile.

"Sure."

I hear her footsteps go down the stairs.

Chance!

I exit fiercely, the door slamming against its hinges, and run straight into my room.

"Sora?" she calls. It's muffled. Her steps get louder as she ascends. The bathroom door creaks, but I'm not there. She draws closer to my door. "Are you in here?" The knob rattles but doesn't turn. "Open the door."

No can do. I'm trying to preserve my health here. I thought I was safe, but no, even my own home can't protect me. I'm sitting on the floor with my back against the door. I look to the window. Maybe I can escape? What am I thinking? This is my room! I shouldn't be forced out of my own sanctuary. If a confrontation is inevitable, then it should be here, on my own turf. Is this my last stand? Maybe it's finally time to face the light. "Not possible, this door will not be opening."

"And why's that?"

"It's a bad lock. It gets jammed sometimes. It can only be opened from your side with a key."

"That is the worst lie I ever heard," she criticizes. Nothing escapes her, does it? At least I tried.

"I thought it was a good one myself." I stare at my legs, which lie limp against the floor. I knock my feet together a couple times. Is this really happening? Is Kairi, the biggest threat to my life, standing outside my bedroom door? This is a scene ripped straight out of a horror movie. I'm just waiting for her to tear a hole open in my door and yell, "_Heere's KAIRI_!" Oh no, maybe that future psychotic serial killer Roxas is going to meet is actually _Kairi_!

"Let's talk," she says simply. Then explain to me what we're doing right now.

"We are."

"I mean face-to-face." There's a reason Perseus didn't do that with Medusa.

"This is about as face-to-face as you're going to get."

I hear a thud against the door. "Fine." Her voice is closer to the floor. Is she sitting against the door like me? Funny. We're back-to-back with only a slab of wood to separate us. It's only a couple inches between me and total annihilation.

I suppose it was always coming to this. I can't run away forever. It's strange. She was content to lie back during summer vacation, but once school started, her interest in me spiked to astronomical levels. Everything changed once we were in school.

"So what's this about?"

She laughs. It sounds like music to my ears—funeral music. I clench my stomach tightly. Even the noise she makes can inflict nausea. This is the kind of secret weapon governments spend millions of dollars to develop. "That's my line," she replies.

"What do you mean?" I'm playing dumb just for the hell of it.

I don't hear a response for a good minute.

"Stop it. Just stop. Let's cut the bullshit now." Wow, talk about a total one-eighty. Her tone is dripping with serious business. So she finally shows her true colors. I knew it! She's not normal; she's doing this—all of it—intentionally. "It's just the two of us. I think we can both drop the act."

Just because she dropped hers doesn't mean I'll do the same. "What act?" I reply coyly.

**BAP!**

The door shakes violently, scaring the crap out of me.

"I'm serious." Girl can't take a joke, can she?

"Okay, just don't break down my door." It's the only thing standing between me and her after all.

She sighs. "You are _unbelievable_, you know that? I don't even know where to start..."

"Why don't you just go home then?" I suggest.

"Who are you?" Who am I? Ha! I'm just your average everyday boy suffering from an intense case of love sickness for which she seems to be the original cause. My memory banks are lacking, if anything, she's got all the answers I'm looking for.

"That's _my_ line."

"I've never met anyone who acts like you. You always run away whenever I see you, you never look me in the eye, and all you ever do is deflect." She's noticed all this time. She's probably been keeping an eye on me since day one, I'm sure of it.

"So says the girl who's always at the center of attention. All you ever do is attract, and I'm supposed to be the weird one?"

"It's one thing to fly under the radar; it's another to not be on the radar at all," she fires.

"At least I'm not the _only thing_ on the radar. Everybody else might as well not exist with you around."

"Why does nobody know who you are at school even though you've been a student for a year already?"

"Why does everybody know who you are even though you've been a student for barely one day?" I return fire.

"You're not...normal." That's an understatement.

"You're extraordinarily abnormal by comparison."

It is silent. Our exchange has reached a standstill.

"Are you going to answer my questions at all?"

"You first."

She starts giggling like a madwoman. Only a witch can produce such wicked sounds. Shivers dance across my spine. "You really are unbelievable." She sounds impressed, but I'm more awed by her duplicity. I seem to bring out the best in people. Somehow, I feel that I've seen a very rare side of Kairi. I'd feel honored if she wasn't such a frightful existence whose only mission is to undermine me.

"Likewise."

"I suppose I should let you know. Mr. Laguna Loire, from Destiny High Times, has asked me to become a main." That makes sense, but uh…congratulations? This is relevant to me how? "I told him I would only accept if you joined." Is that why the bastard has been hounding me? "I also know that you and Riku have some kind of challenge going on that involves me."

There goes that. It's awesome how all my efforts to remain hidden can just go up in smoke with one sentence. All that time spent worrying has been for nothing. She knew all along. Everything I did was for naught. She had me in her sights from the very beginning. It didn't matter what I did, it was predestined that I would become her target.

"You are one scary girl. How the hell did you know that?"

"I have my sources," she teases.

"Like Xion?"

"Maybe."

Then the rumors that have been circulating… "Have you been talking about me in school?"

"Just been asking a few questions." All it takes is a few questions to blow up my name?

"And why would you do that?"

"To understand a man, talk not to him, but to all his friends." This fortune cookie nonsense feels wildly incongruent.

"Is that some kind of proverb?"

"It's an old Turk expression. It would've worked if you actually _had_ friends." Is that supposed to hurt me? I don't care about friends. They're a hassle.

"Better than having too many."

She chews on my words with her silence. It's like…she's expecting me to say something.

Is this the moment I confess my love sickness to her?

Nope.

Why on earth should I? She's the primary offender of my condition! I'm not handing her the keys to my demise. Considering her ability to create rumors from mere conjecture, such an act is too dangerous. If the whole school finds out about it, it'll open up the possibility to new and inhumane methods of torture—I mean bullying.

Nobody besides me knows about my condition and I plan on keeping it that way. I guess it's in my genes. Growing up in a family that likes to pretend that their debilitating mental afflictions don't exist tends to make me do the same. If all goes to plan, I won't have to pretend in due time, but it isn't going too smoothly at the moment.

"I still have no idea who you are," she says, breaking the silence.

"Quit stealing my dialogue."

"That'll change soon though. It helps to have lots of friends. They always have something interesting to say," she explains. Is that why she's so popular? To create some sort of information network? What kind of opponent have I encountered?

This is…

Pretty exciting.

But dangerous…oh so dangerous.

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's just a statement of fact."

"Why are you so interested in me anyway? There are dozens of guys out there who are better looking, more talented, and more interesting than me." Tell me what I'm doing to attract you, so I can stop doing it already!

"It's a strange feeling…bittersweet, and a little familiar? You've hurt my pride. You're the first boy who has ever run away from me like that. I've never seen such a unique reaction."

"Please leave me alone. You make me _sick_."

"Now that's not a very nice to say. The more you resist, the more curious I become. I'm not going to give up on you just yet. I'm going to find out your secret, no matter what it takes."

I think I just melted from sheer terror right there."W-who says I have a secret?"

"I do."

So that's what it's come down to: a declaration of war. It appears we've both seen through each other's hands. Our attempts at discretion and subterfuge were as transparent as Roxas' foolishness. We can no longer operate with our usual methods. This battle demands that we evolve, change our tactics, and strategize more carefully. We both seem to be holding a deep dark secret close to our hearts, and it's a race to see who can dig it up first.

Or perhaps...the real answer lies somewhere in the past?

"Guess we'll both just have to find out."


	20. Inevitable Trouble

**Chapter 20: Inevitable Trouble**

I peek through my curtains.

Even though Kairi's not there, I almost throw up from the mere _implicaton_. She's gotta be an exhibitionist—there's no other explanation for it. There's absolutely no reason why her drapes should be so wide open.

She must be doing this on purpose. She _knows_ my bedroom is across from hers. An open window like that can only be an invitation to peep. There are limits to how much you're allowed to attention whore, but she's gone beyond them. She's forging new frontiers in gratuitous narcissism.

I close my curtains shut and tape the corners. I know I'm being paranoid, but I can't take any risks here. What if a random wind blows and I'm exposed to the sight of her prancing around in her underwear? No matter unlikely that scenario is, the possibility isn't absolute zero, and knowing my luck, things will inevitably fall into that tiny percentage that always screws me over.

Okay Sora, calm down here. I need to derail this train of thought. If I wallow too much in worst-case scenarios, I might prime myself right into one. This is why I hate self-fulfilling prophecies and Murphy's Law. Whoever coined those terms had no idea what kind of Pandora's Box they were opening. Once you put a name to something, it becomes a thing, and once it becomes a thing, it starts happening all over the place. For me, the worst that can happen is what _will_ happen.

Misfortune's predilection for me aside, what exactly is Kairi's game here? Why is she hounding my ass so hard? Fortunately, she left my house long ago, but I'm utterly baffled by her continued scrutiny. I'm no catch, and I have no illusions about my appeal. I've gone to great lengths to ensure that I have none. I'm just a slab of dough behind all the fancy-looking desserts. I don't think I've wronged her in any way aside from treating her like a radioactive substance, but that's hardly cause for the vicious harassment she's inflicted upon me. I've already met my annual quota for throwing up thanks to her.

Perhaps she's realized what my condition really is and knows full well about the effect she has on me.

...

Oh man, it's too late for scary stories. I might get nightmares of Kairi trying to break into my room now. It's clear she doesn't know anything about my condition, but with that kind of intense curiosity, she's bound to find out. She seriously needs to find a better hobby.

There's something lurking beneath her pleasant facade, a secret of some kind. She's trying very hard not to let it show, but its perfect absence is evidence of its existence. It may sound counter-intuitive, but Kairi's seeming perfection contradicts everything I know about people. No one is truly perfect, and there's a reason for every type of behavior. People don't do things arbitrarily. Our personalities are defined by our fragile psyches, whether it's pounded into shape through abuse or tender care, it's responsible for all of our quirks, insecurities, and mental ticks. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others.

"_To understand a man, talk not to him, but to all his friends._"

I highly doubt that any of Kairi's "friends" have anything meaningful to say about her. If she's as guarded as me, her "friends" are simply window dressing with no real substance. If anyone knows anything about Kairi, it would be her dad. Reno seems to know my parents well. It's time to do some research. I can't leave such an obvious connection between me and Kairi left unchecked.

I pull out my cell phone and scroll through my anemic contacts list. I find "dad" and dial his number. If Reno really worked with him, then I should be able to dig up some useful information.

"Hello?" Dad's always so enthusiastic when he answers the phone. He could be in the middle of a war zone and I would never know because he's so damn cheery. That's his shtick though. He's friendly to a fault, and his geniality distracted most people from his odd mannerisms. It takes a keen eye to notice the subtle movement of his pupils and the way he would side-step around empty space. In his mind though, it isn't empty space—it's mom.

"Hey dad." It's not often that I talk to him. He does his customary home check every now and then, but we prefer to be left to our own devices. We're a family of lone wolves. We support each other by staying out of the way.

"So what's the occasion?" he wonders.

I'm just gonna get right into it. "Do you know a Reno Uchida?"

"That bastard?" he laughs. "What about him?"

"For one, he moved in next door," I explain.

There's a short pause. "I see... Yeah, I know him pretty well. I work with his wife a lot." That sounds...suspicious.

"You're not having an affair are you?"

He bursts out in laughter. "What, you don't trust me? Any affairs I have are strictly imaginary."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I would never betray your mom. You know that." Ah, I know the old story. He's told me about it countless times. He would tell me, "_I met your mom before I met your mom_." What he meant by that was that he dreamed of meeting mom before he actually met her. That was how he knew it was "destiny." He probably thought it was romantic, but considering his schizophrenia, I don't think it's destiny at all. I chalk it up to mental obfuscation incurred by messed up neural pathways and chemical imbalances—craziness, basically.

"That's good to know. So about Reno, no, about the Uchida's, did you know that they have a daughter?"

"Of course, Cissnei can't shut up about her. Name's Kairi, right? I guess I shouldn't complain though; I'm the same way about you." He talks about me at work? I don't know whether to feel happy or scared. Don't tell me an imaginary version of myself finally emerged from his madness.

"Should I be counting my days as your only son?"

He finds it totally hilarious and explodes in gut-wrenching laughter. It doesn't take much to set off my dad's humor. "You kill me sometimes, Sora." That's me, just a regular practitioner of patricide. "I've seen the pictures. I would never guess she's their kid though."

"Why's that?" I ask curiously.

"Not much resemblance. Probably takes after her mom, but I'm only saying that because Cissnei's a natural redhead."

"Reno isn't?"

"Him? He's like me, black as silk." I could care less about the genetic variations between parent and child. "Kind of like how you got my eyes and spikiness, but with your mom's color."

"Were our families ever close?" I ask, getting back to my line of questioning. That seemed like a good starting point. It's clear there's some history between our families, but the question is how much?

"Not particularly. They work in a totally separate department than mine."

"The Turks," I fill in. I've heard that word bandied about prominently from the Uchida's. I didn't think much of it, but it seems to be important. My dad's in SOLDIER while the Uchida's were Turks. What's the freakin' difference? They work for Shinra in the end don't they?

"That's right."

"Care to explain what a Turk is exactly?"

"I didn't know you cared about my job. This is the first time you've showed interest," he says happily. When it relates to my condition, it automatically becomes interesting by default. "I told you a bunch of times that Shinra's a security company. We have different divisions, but between SOLDIER and the Turks, there isn't much difference in the role we play. We provide protection. That's our goal. If there's any difference between us, it's in how we do things." In my experience, it's the small difference that makes all the difference.

"And that is…?"

"SOLDIER works behind the scenes. We provide protection from the shadows. We try to be invisible and minimize our presence as much as possible. We do a lot of undercover and blending in with the crowd. To put it simply: we're ninjas." If I only knew that beforehand, then I would've been the coolest kid in class—not that they'd believe me, but still. "As for the Turks, they're kind of the opposite. They stand in plain sight; you can say their very presence is protection."

"Like bodyguards in suits?"

"It's quite an intimidating appearance. Subtlety was never their strong point." Judging from the way Reno acted in my house, that's a fair assessment.

"Turks and SOLDIERs..." We really do take after our parents, don't we? That explains a lot. Kairi's popularity isn't natural; it's cultivated through social manipulation. She probably picked up their skills as she grew up. "You said we weren't particularly close. Does that mean you never introduced me to Kairi?"

"I was aware of her existence, but it wasn't like we had family dates together. Why are you asking anyways?" He provided the answer to his own question, "Oh, I get it. You have a crush on her, don't you? You probably wished we introduced you guys earlier so you could have that whole childhood friends turned lovers thing?" What a ridiculous idea.

"That is 100% wrong. It's the opposite; I'm trying to get her off my back."

"Nice going Sora!"

I groan.

"I kid, I kid," he jokes. "I don't know much about her, but I _do_ know that Reno quit because of her." That perks my ears. This sounds like extremely valuable intel.

"Do you know the reason why?"

"I never bothered to ask. I just assumed Reno wanted to be a stay-at-home dad. He's a slacker. It wasn't really a controversial decision."

"Is that all you know?"

"Yup." Instead of finding answers, all I get are more questions.

"Thanks for the help. I guess I'll talk to you later."

"Good luck with Kairi." I roll my eyes. He still has the wrong idea. "And it's no problem. Tell mom I love her, okay?"

"Alright. Bye."

I hang up the phone and fall back on my mattress. Fat lot of good that did me. It's nice to talk to dad every once in a while, but the returns didn't justify the expenditure this time. I sit up and stare at the closed window. Behind those curtains is certain death. It's terrible when I have to deny myself sunlight for the sake of survival. My eyes drift towards the laptop and I'm reminded of my stalled research into her Moogle+ profile. I had to give up on that since I couldn't stomach her photos.

That may not be the case anymore. My Kairi training photo has lost all effectiveness at this point. I've gotten used to it. My body should be sufficiently prepared. I stumble towards my desk and wake up the screen. It flashes back to life and I open the browser. I type in her name and her profile comes up first on the search results. I click on it.

The internet can be a scary and filthy place. Countless people have been scarred by images they can never unsee. I've heard some nasty things, downright horrible things, but nothing can compare to the sheer shock of seeing Kairi so plainly. The bile threatens to rise, but I manage to push it down. I cover my mouth and focus on the image before me. I've done this before. It should not be affecting me this much. My training has not been for nothing!

Slowly, but surely, my stomach settles into a precarious state. One hard push and I might fall over the edge, but as long I concentrate, I won't lose control. It's a struggle though. I have to constantly remind myself that it's not the real thing. It's just pixels on the screen, but it makes no difference to my eyes. Even if she's made up of pixels, her visage is too pristine. Like the sun emerging from behind a cloudy sky, she's just too bright.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. I never thought a picture could make me _this_ nervous. I grip my knees tightly and absorb the detail from the image. I soak it in, little by little, like small packets of poison. It's not enough to kill me outright, but I can feel my body struggling to fight off the deadly molecules. My head dips down and my eyes fall on the keyboard. Averting my gaze for just that one moment alleviates the stress instantly. It's amazing how light my shoulders feel. Okay, I can do this. I steel my nerves and brace myself again.

After thirty agonizing minutes of on-and-off staring, I finally make a breakthrough. I had no idea you could shrink web pages by holding down control and pressing the minus key! With this newfound knowledge, I shrink the profile until the images are nothing but thumbnails. I know I'm weak sauce, but if I have to desensitize myself to every photo, I'd be stuck in my room for the entire school year. My training wasn't for nothing though; I wouldn't have been able to handle these thumbnails before.

Despite their small size, I glean an enormous amount of information from them. When I take a look at the whole gallery at once, I immediately notice the patterns. She has never taken a photo alone. In every single picture, she's always with someone else. What a show of social force. If I ever had an account, my profile picture would probably just be me, by myself, slumped over my bed. I feel sorry for the people she poses with. She overshadows them completely—literally. The way she positions her body skews the framing and lighting in profound ways, and forces the eyes to be drawn to her.

Some people have their "photo face" that they pull on command for every picture. It homogenizes their photo albums since it's the same pose and expression in different backgrounds, but Kairi is different. She transforms into different entities entirely from a simple change of angle. She never shows the same face twice. I guess even the sun has brightness settings other than "blinding."

I scroll through the gallery and find no image of her before middle school. That makes sense. Moogle+ didn't even exist until a couple years ago. There's nothing too interesting from her middle school days. She's just a typical super popular girl. The scale is certainly off the charts, but the basic premise is no different from the prima donnas at my middle school. The only difference is that Kairi was a goddess among mere mortals in Radiant Garden, but over here, she's a goddess among supermodel mortals. The standards are little higher, but she handily outshines them all. I can imagine the line of slobbering boys who used to lust after her in Radiant Garden. Given her immense popularity, she can probably pluck any boy she wants and own him for life. A scan of her profile page shows no history of her ever having a boyfriend though.

It's obvious I have to dig deeper if I want to unearth anything useful, but after scanning all her albums, Moogle+ ends up being a dead end. Aside from the photos, much of the content is made up of generic pleasantries. It's a brand with no personality, an empty shrine dedicated to her existence. I don't even think she uses it anymore.

How many cookie crumb trails do I have to follow before I find one that actually leads me somewhere? There are just too many false leads. I thought you were good, Moogle! As the number one search engine in the world, I expected more from you...

Piece of shit.

I'm at a loss. It's lame how much I depend on the internet for my information. I'm better than this! If I think hard enough, the answer should come to me. From my dad, I know that our families weren't close, but it is a _fact_ that the Uchida's have previously lived on Destiny Islands. If I _did_ meet Kairi before, I'm sure it wasn't by random chance. The only way we could've possibly met each other was through school. I can only remember as far back as kindergarten. That means the time frame for a theoretical meeting places us somewhere between the time I was born and halfway through kindergarten. I'm missing five whole years of my life. I never dwelled too much on that fact, but it seems like I'll have to confront it head-on now.

It's just too bad that Moogle+ didn't exist back then. If it did, I could just look at old kindergarten photos—

…

I am such an idiot. Of course! My old class photos! Why didn't I think of it before? I close my laptop and leave the room. I walk through the hallway and search the ceiling for the attic. I find it. I pull down the cord and a mini staircase drops down, paving a path upwards. Cool. I climb up the steps and enter the shadowy space. I wave my hand in the darkness until it catches on a hanging light bulb. I switch it on and it illuminates the room. Planks of wood run across the sides and insulating material is taped to the walls behind sheets of plastic. I almost expect rats to be scurrying around, but this is my mom's house. No rat can exist here for long without suffering her wrath.

Now where's all my old stuff? Oh, here we go. I walk towards a box clearly marked as "Sora's Schoolwork." It pays to have an organized mom. She should really consider starting an archival storage service. I open the cardboard box and inside are thick files for each grade. I pull out the file for kindergarten and start combing through it. It has all my old homework. I forgot how large the paper was back then. Each page only has five lines to write on. Talk about extra wide ruled. It feels nostalgic.

Wait, I wonder if there's anything in my old school work? I could've written journal entries that can explain what happened in the past. I thumb through the work and see nothing but singular vocabulary words in various states of capitalized and lower case. Damn it. The kindergarten curriculum wasn't advanced enough to teach me proper documentation skills. I wish I had kept a childhood diary.

I close up the folder. I don't think there are any pictures in here. I look through the box again and find a folder named "Class Photos." I guess I was too excited to notice before. I open it up and the first image I see is from kindergarten. Finally, something goes my way, but...there's always a catch. Why was my elementary school so cheap? They should've ponied up a few extra pennies for color. The photo is in black and white. Rows of kids are standing and smiling at the camera. I scan the faces in the picture but I curse my luck. I can't tell who is a girl and who is a boy. Some kids are obviously one gender, but the majority are ambiguous. The same androgynous appearance that saved me from getting sick as a toddler now comes back to bite me in the ass. I hate you, irony. Why do all the girls look like boys, and all the boys look like girls? If it wasn't in black and white, I might have been able to make that distinction. At the bottom of the picture are names of the students. Now we're getting somewhere. First names are abbreviated as initials, so I have to look for Kairi's last name, "Uchida."

…

The world must hate me. Are you freakin' kidding me? There's no Uchida whatsoever in this picture. Does this mean she was never in my class? The chances that we met from two separate classes is highly unlikely, but not impossible. Hold on a second, it's possible that her last name wasn't always Uchida. Last names can change because of marriages and whatnot. Her first name should still remain the same, even if her last name didn't.

I find three possibilities:

K. Nakata.

K. Panettiere.

K. Kozuki.

And it just so happens that all three of them could pass as triplets. Any one of them is a viable candidate as young Kairi. Great. If she's really in this photo, she's a far cry from the constant centerpiece she is today.

Screw it. There's no way I'm gonna waste my time checking these names out. There's sufficient evidence for me to declare that Kairi and I, without a single doubt, have met before in kindergarten. Sure there's about 5% chance that we didn't, and all I really have to do is ask Kairi if she's ever changed her last name to confirm my last suspicion, but I'd rather not give Kairi an excuse to dig deeper into me. I suppose I can ask Reno for confirmation, but I think my assumption is safe.

With that said, I have to go beyond the question of "have we met before" to "_how_ did we meet before?" She doesn't seem to know the answer herself. If my parents don't know the answer, and if Kairi's parents don't know the answer, then the only people who'd know anything about me and Kairi are the people in my kindergarten class. I comb through the photo again, but this time, instead of looking for "Uchida," I search for any familiar names. I get two hits:

S. Tilmitt and T. Zanarkand.

Also known as Selphie, the greatest gossip in school, and Tidus, the blitzball team's golden boy and superstar. Of course, it just had to be two very high profile students.

If there's any one person who makes the gears of gossip run at school, it's definitely Selphie, whose blog continues to draw thousands of visitors for the latest in sordid and juicy affairs. Her blog is better than any adolescent soap opera. Why bother with fiction when Destiny High serves all your lowbrow needs for nonsensical teenage drama? It's a bit of a longstanding tradition for one person to accept the role of runner of the rumor mill. Becoming the number one gossip queen at Destiny High is essentially a guarantee of a successful tabloid enterprise post-high school. For that reason alone, I'm scratching her off my list of leads. Who knows what crap she'll spout if I go to her for help?

Tidus, on the other hand, is a typical headcase whose athletic achievements garnered him plenty of ego-boosting praise. It's the basic formula that warps many a young gentleman, granting them an obscene sense of entitlement. This just means he's an ideal candidate for manipulation. It shouldn't be too hard to squeeze any useful info out of him. I just hope his memory is as good as his blitzball skills. If I recall correctly, he's in my first period class. Never thought I'd go to him for anything, but with Kairi breathing down my neck, the faster I can solve this mystery, the better.

I take the photo with me and pack everything else in the appropriate boxes. Mom would be pissed if I didn't. After everything's squared away, I descend from the attic and reenter my room. There's a lot to chew on. Between parental spy units and blocks of amnesia from the past, I'm still no closer to solving the mystery that is Kairi. Once again, I have to ask myself, "_Why?_"

The only reason I can think of for her to be so interested in me is that she suffers from something similar to my condition. My interest in her is totally warranted because of my sickness. No other girl has inspired such extreme reactions from me. Am I provoking some kind of reaction from her for a mysterious condition she has?

Huh…

I don't know how to feel about that. If there _is_ a condition, it doesn't seem like it affects her too much. She has no problems dealing with boys and girls, so it has to be something subtle. Maybe I'm reading too deep into this hypothesis, but really, I shouldn't be drawing this much attention. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense though. We could be suffering two different psychological conditions stemming from one shared traumatic experience in our early childhood, and it could be an experience so traumatic, it demolished what little memory we had of each other.

I'm knocked out of my thoughts when I hear scratching against my window. Something's tapping on the glass. My imagination defaults to the most horrific possibility, which is Kairi. Why she would be knocking on my window, I have no idea, but fear has a funny way of running away with the imagination. If that's the case, how is she high enough to knock on my window? The idea that she would bring a ladder just for that is ludicrous. Then again, maybe she doesn't need a ladder. What if she possesses supernatural vampiric powers that allows her float right outside my bedroom? I shudder at the thought. As if she can't get any more terrifying in my mind.

I open the drapes and two golden eyes stare back at me. It's just a cat. I laugh nervously. What was I so afraid of? I open the window to let the creature in. It's a shorthair with a smoky coat of fur. I wouldn't call him cuddly, since his time has passed, but he's been a neighborhood fixture for as long as I can remember. He was adorable as a kitten. He's still cute, but it isn't on the level that would melt your heart. I stroke him on the head.

Since my mom has OCD, having an animal in the house was simply out of the question—no exceptions. She wouldn't even accept goldfish. So this cat is the closest I ever got to having a pet. I named him "Tabby." He leans into my warm touch. His fur feels soft and glossy.

Out of the same sense of thrill and exhilaration that extreme athletes feel when they perform death-defying stunts, I chance a look across the yard and realize to my utter horror that Kairi's curtains are closed. I'm glad that I don't have to see her, but _any_ deviation from the norm is always cause for concern. What the hell could she be doing behind those curtains?

"Sora."

Holy crap, Tabby can talk? Nah, I'm just joking. I turn to the door where Roxas stands comfortably. I was starting to wonder where he was. I was fully preparing myself for news of his cold, naked, and dead body being found in a ditch somewhere. My mom wouldn't be happy if she knew I dumped him off with some random girl. It was pretty much the opposite of "looking out" for him.

He sees the cat sitting on my desk. "You have a cat?"

"The neighborhood has a cat. I call him Tabby."

He walks closer and pets him on the head. Tabby mewls in appreciation.

"How did things go with Xion?" I ask.

He gives me a suspicious glance. "What did you ever do to her? She seems to have a low opinion of you."

"That's what I'm still trying to figure out myself." I'm sure there's a rational explanation for her twisted logic that turns my compliments into attacks on her femininity, but I'm just gonna go with "easily offended." Nobody acts like a jerk for no reason. She must've had a bad experience with a "player" or something dumb like that. All it takes is one douche to sour a girl's disposition towards all guys. "So did she have anything useful to teach?"

He shrugs in his trademark noncommittal show of no balls. "She has a unique way of…looking at things. She has good advice for being a good boyfriend, but I'm not at that stage yet." Obviously.

"You gonna stick with her?"

He moves away from Tabby and sits on my bed. An aura of defeat hangs over him. He folds his hands and slumps. "I don't know." We've just barely started and he's already showing doubt? Not exactly a good sign. It's awkward to be feeling this kind of vibe from him. I like it better when he's oblivious and aloof.

"Is she that bad of a teacher?"

"No, it's not that. It's Kairi," he reveals.

"What about her?"

"She's clearly out of my league." Okay, so he's not as oblivious as I thought, but that's just part of his charm.

"That's not an excuse to not pursue her, you know."

"I mean, yeah, she's beautiful, amazing, and totally awesome, but how does somebody like me have a chance?" I sense that things are getting heavy now. I normally don't care, but given that my anonymity depends on Roxas drawing attention away from me, I'd rather he not share these concerns before the competition. I can't have my horse getting cold feet just one day after Riku issued the challenge. "I think she's more interested in you," he suggests. What gave you that idea? The fact that she's hunting me down with the tenacity of Tommy Lee Jones?

"What makes you say that?"

He gives me a look. I can't tell if its envy or anger in his face. "Because you're all she talks about." If I was a normal guy, that information would probably thrill me, instead, I'm just scared shitless.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm avoiding her." From his face, it doesn't. "Look, I'm on your side. You can't say you failed before you even tried. Unless you know for sure by hearing it from her, don't make stupid assumptions."

It looks like I got through to him. He offers a Roxas-style relieved smile. "I guess you're right. Sorry for acting depressed." He stands up and brushes his legs. "Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that you're a celebrity."

"Uhh…I'm a what?"

"You're trending on Kupopo."

Kupopo is another part of Moogle+. It operates under the idea that people actually care about the trivial details of your life. Users "kupo," or post status updates, and it shows up on their followers' news feed. People usually kupo about random minutia that only adds to the increasing problem of garbage data on the internet. It's a way keep tabs on friends or famous figures. Why I would be trending on a social networking service I have no account on can only be because of one person: Kairi.

I open my laptop and immediately hop onto the site. "How exactly am I trending here?"

He scratches his head and chuckles. "Who is Sora Hikari?"

I raise an eyebrow. Am I supposed to type that in? In the search box, I enter in:

#WhoIsSoraHikari.

...

Holy shit.

Thousands upon thousands of kupos show up on the screen. What the hell? Does her reach know no bounds? This is ridiculous!

_**#whoissorahikari** sora? i kno him from school_

_I think the painting that won first place back in the destiny islands art compettion was made by him **#whoissorahikari**_

_isnt he on #chainofmemories? **#whoissorahikari**_

_i know a sora but not a Hikari **#whoissorahikari**_

_**#whoissoraHikari** he and aqua got something going on_

_hes the struggle champion for two years straight **#whoisSorahikari**_

_I've had him for middle school. He got sick a lot **#whoisSoraHikari**_

_I went out with him once. He's a total douche, totally not worth bothering with **#whoisSoraHikari**_

_why are you asking about him? did he hurt you somehow? I'll kill him! **#whoissorahikari**_

_I remember, sickboy was his name. he was pretty damn hilarious, didn't he throw up on some girl? oh ya, pukku! **#WHOISSORAHIKARI**_

_he totally kicked my ass in blitzball **#whoIsSorahikari**_

_hes amazing on the piano. **#whoisSoraHikari**_

_That guys a jerk. **#whoissorahikari**_

The list of kupos goes on and on. It's amusing to see people make shit up, but the fact that my name has a giant bull's-eye on it is deeply disconcerting. There's a bit of truth sprinkled in with the bullshit, and if she could filter it out, I'm in deep trouble. It's a truly diabolical scheme; she's conducting a full scale investigation through crowdsourcing intel. Not terribly efficient, but dangerous nonetheless. It's something I can never pull off. I'm glad I've avoided putting up any details on the web. Even the biggest sleuths will be hard-pressed to find anything about me online.

The original kupo is buried underneath a pile of responses, but I'm 100% certain it's Kairi's. "Do you know Kairi's Kupopo account?"

"I think it's just Kairi." That's amazing. I can't believe she got her name without any variations. I'd probably have to add five digits to my name if I wanted "Sora" as my handle.

I type in her name and jump to her profile. She has 6,000+ followers.

How the hell am I supposed to compete with that? Even Riku doesn't have that kind of pull. I lean back in my chair and shake my head. Riku seems so paltry by comparison, it makes me wonder why I was ever worried about him. Even though Kairi doesn't have a TV show to her name, that's about to change soon, even if it's contingent on my joining of the cast. Now she's got every eye at school looking for me. Riku's challenge is _nothing_ compared to this. My worst fears have already been realized! Unbelievable. I've been working so hard to stay out of the limelight, and before I knew it, I'm already at critical mass. The more I struggle, the deeper I find myself sinking.

Does anything ever go my way?

"_Meow._"

It's just a rhetorical question, Tabby. I already know the answer, but thanks for answering anyways.


	21. Under the Hood

**Chapter 21: Under the Hood**

In my hand is a shiny pair of scissors.

It gleams with a deadly sparkle in the light. It may be small, but it's very sharp. It's a luxury scissor, the kind where the metal has been treated for durability. It can maintain its sharpness for over one hundred thousand cuts. It's as if they shrank down two katanas and screwed them together. It's that _well-made_. So why do I have such a dangerous instrument in my hand?

It's because I've reached my breaking point. I'm beset on all sides by hostile forces. I don't see a way out of this. There's nothing but certain misery in the future. Why go through with it when I can spare myself the agony? I'm cornered like a rat…and I have no choice but to take my own life.

Which should I go for, the wrist or the jugular? The arteries are buried deep in the wrist and it might too painful to dig for it. The veins are closer to the surface, but it'll be slower and drawn out. I'll just go for the quick and painless option in my throat.

...

I knew I couldn't fool you. I'm the last person to commit suicide, but then again, the people who do are the ones you'd usually least expect. In my glamorous youth where I spent days with my nose deep in psychology texts, it's no surprise that I came across the topic of suicide. Given my family history, I'm in that special group where the risk for killing myself is higher than average. Mental illness skews the odds in death's favor.

I haven't met enough despair to even consider it as an option, and my life is way too precious to just throw away. Even if I did kill myself, I doubt I'd escape my condition. Meeting real angels will probably have me throwing up the divine equivalent of puke.

Although I have no desire to cut off my life, my unruly locks are a different story. I'm in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I'm thinking a cosmetic change might be in order—anything to increase my chances of evasion. It's what fugitives do to avoid detection. Cut the hair short, dye it, and boom, I'm a whole new person. Roxas resembles me close enough that we can theoretically switch places. Huh, that's not a bad idea. It'd be nice to swap identities. He can be happy-go-lucky Sora, and I'll be sullen Roxas.

…

I knew I couldn't fool you again, but hey, I got you for at least one second, right?

I run a hand across my scalp. Should I really go through with it? My hair, despite its incomprehensible spikiness, has actually helped me to blend in all this time. Everybody's hairstyle on Destiny Islands is so outlandish; a "normal" haircut is a statistical aberration. I can't be the only sane one in a crazy house. Since my name is on everybody's mind now, I have to change my strategy. Is it time for an image change? If I go through with this, it'll make my mom happy for sure. She can't stand my haircut.

I take the scissors and put it near my head. I position a sizeable spike of hair between the blades.

Just squeeze my fingers and that lock of hair will be severed from my head forever…

What am I doing? I can't do this.

I pull the scissors away and give my reflection a hard stare. If I cut my hair, I'll just be admitting defeat. How can I let Kairi dictate my hairstyle? I've lived with this cut my entire life. It's totally "me." And besides, it'll come in handy whenever I need to hide in brown bushes. I know brown bushes are rare, and it's a limited application, but it's better than nothing.

I stash the scissors away in the mirror cabinet and leave the bathroom. School starts in an hour, so I'll have to figure out some kind of disguise. Those days of hiding in plain sight are drawing to an end. I'm gonna miss them. I can't do much when Kairi's put an APB on me.

I walk into my room and start looking through my drawers. My wardrobe is made up of carefully selected clothing notable for their utter lack of notability. They're mostly plain, matte colored, and comfortable. I just need something to cover my face with. Since this is Destiny Islands, nobody wears sweaters or jackets, which means I don't have any. Damn it. What now?

I leave and enter Roxas' room. If anybody has island-inappropriate clothing, it's him. I see him buried underneath the bed covers. I start searching his drawers like he isn't even there. I hear rustling from his bed.

"Sora?" he mumbles. He pokes his head out and squints at me. Sleep is still dripping from his face. "What are you doing?"

"Do you have any hoodies I can borrow?" I ask. I don't feel like searching through the mess in front of me.

"Like a jacket?" He pulls down the covers and sits up. No need for that; just tell me where the goods are.

"Something like that."

"Yeah, sure. I didn't have any reason to pull them out, so it's still in a box. Look in the closet."

A cursory glance leads me right to it. I rip the box open and discover a pristine white sweater. There are no logos or anything; it's perfect. "Thanks a lot." I pull it out and give my cousin a look. "Go back to sleep. You still got a half hour of free time ahead of you."

He yawns appreciatively and rubs his eyes. "What about you?"

"I'll be going on ahead by myself."

He falls back on the mattress and pulls the blanket over his face. "See you later," he says, muffled.

I like docile Roxas. He's ten times less annoying and ten times more accommodating.

I leave his room and try on the sweater, pulling it over my head. There's an opening near the neck, which I zip up to my chin. I tug the hood over my head with some difficulty. My hair doesn't like being squished. It has high resistance, but I'm able to tuck in any loose strands. I enter the bathroom to observe myself in the mirror. Hmm... It looks good, but something's still off. I pull the hood down some more until it covers my eyes. There you go. Now I look just like...Stella—or should I say Naminé. Never thought I'd take a page out of her fashion book, but desperate times call for strategic measures, and right now, concealing my face is the way to go.

After I finish preparing myself, I head down the stairs and grip the doorknob. I take a deep breath. I haven't forgotten that I live next to Kairi. What if she's watching? I shake my head; it's too early to start acting paranoid. I twist the knob and push the door open. I glance over to her house and see no sign of her. Good. I dash off quickly and run to school in my new threads.

I make it to Destiny High with no problems. The place is barren though, but that's to be expected when I'm thirty minutes early. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that nobody's looking for me, but that would be a big mistake. I'm sure that the second I take off this hood, somebody's going to yell and point at me, and then it'll be game over. I keep my head low and start walking to my locker. I've had plenty of practice walking around with my face down, so I avoid incoming traffic with ease. I've developed a sixth sense for avoiding people. I keep my elbows close and my ears open.

"Sora," a soft voice calls to me.

Shit, has my cover been blown already? I speed up my pace to get away, but a gloved hand gently grips my arm. I only know one person who wears gloves and I hope it's the same one I'm thinking of. I turn around and breathe a sigh of relief. "Naminé..."

We look like a pair of assassins; two hooded figures next to each other, one in white and the other in black—yeah, we're not suspicious at all.

She puts a finger to her mouth for silence and gestures me to follow. Why not? She's the last person to give me away since she has the same vested interest in keeping her own identity a secret. As I follow her, I realize how quiet she truly moves. She glides across the floor like a ghost. I can't hear any footsteps or even the swishing of her clothes. She leads me through the hallways and up the stairs. We keep ascending until we stop at the fourth floor. I'm kinda curious now. Where is she taking me?

No…

Crap! Is this a trap? Maybe she's working for Kairi!

"Here we are," she announces quietly.

I look up and see an unmarked door. I hope Kairi isn't waiting behind it. "Where are we exactly?"

She puts a hand in one of her pockets and pulls out a key. She uses it to unlock the door and motions me in. I enter the room and find it empty. Whew, close one. My imagination always makes things more exciting than they need to be. Desks are scattered around but I notice a few canvases propped up with wooden legs. They're paintings, but they aren't good—actually, they're flat-out terrible. It looks like a five year old made it. It's a mess of crayon smears.

"This is the old art room," she informs me. "It's not in use anymore, so I have it to myself." Gag enrolled students get all the special privileges. It looks like they get their own personal safe havens on campus. Speaking of gag enrollment, I should qualify now. Seeing as how Kairi stirred up the hornet's nest, I should be high-profile enough to warrant the protection.

"Nice place. Are you the one who painted these?" I ask, pointing to the pictures.

"Unfortunately, yes," she answers shamefully.

"At least you still have your day job," I say, chuckling. She doesn't respond. Way to make my joke fall flat. I can't gauge her reaction at all since her face is covered. She's a tough read.

"I may not be good at drawing but...it's relaxing." We all have own coping mechanisms. I wish mine were as productive as hers. Her head turns to me, "So…it seems like you've become real popular overnight." When the star idol of Destiny Islands notices my boost in popularity, that's when I know that things have gone from "bad" to "horribad."

"Even you?" I joke.

"I overheard some conversation. Your name's on everybody's tongue. Since I caught you sneaking around, I figure you could use a hiding place."

How thoughtful of her, and here I'm, thinking that nobody cared. "Thanks."

"It's no problem." I think she's smiling, but I can't really tell. Her voice sounds happy though.

I let myself relax. It's nice to be able to talk to a girl without resorting to mental trickery and self-deception. I don't have to worry about saying the right or wrong things; I just say whatever's on my mind. The joy in freedom of speech is unrivaled by anything else. "For a celebrity, you're alright. I thought you guys were supposed to be conceited maniacs." Like Riku. Then again, Riku is a special brand of conceited maniac—he's the king of them all.

"I'm not anything special."

Oh please, get that mock humility out of here. "You're the number one teen idol on this island. If the word special is reserved for anyone, it's definitely you. But you probably have people telling you that all the time, so I won't beat a dead horse and agree with you. Yup, you're right. You're nothing special. You're completely ordinary."

She giggles unexpectedly. The sound of her laugh is heavenly enough to give me slight chills. Note to self: don't make her laugh anymore. Is a siren no less dangerous when their voice can still lure unsuspecting sailors to their rocky demise? "All I ask is that you treat me the same as anyone else," she tells me. A little late for that. If I treated her "normally," I'd be coughing my guts out right now.

I look at Naminé's shrouded form and imagine the idol lurking underneath the hood. The only thing I can see is her mouth. My superimposed mental image of Stella Star doesn't quite mesh with the reality, but when it comes to TV, it's best to take nothing at face value. The difference between her TV and real life appearance is huge. I never expected her iconic brunette locks to be fake—if the blonde tresses carefully tucked behind her ears is any indication. So she's a natural blonde…interesting. It makes me wonder how much make up and alterations actors go through before the camera starts rolling. It's amazing how people can completely transform with a little powder to the face.

"I have to wonder, are you anything like your character in Chain of Memories?"

She plays a witch on the show, a well-meaning, good-intentioned, but clumsy character who stirs up more trouble than actually helps. It sounds simple, but it's that simplicity that makes the character the ultimate ideal, the perfect type of girl who everybody wish existed in real life. It's not because of her magical powers; it's because she nails all the characteristics that people view as attractive, endearing, and wonderfully cute. It's pretty odd that she represents the pinnacle of adolescent adoration here. I'd expect the island to look up to someone more mature, but our tastes are a little different than from the rest of the world. _Chain of Memories_ is niche at best outside of Destiny Islands.

I'm sure that among all the doe-eyed youths who worship her, there are a few nut jobs whose obsession with her is anything but appropriate. There are shrines and fan pages dedicated to her. It's quite awesome to behold. Her massive presence is like a social experiment to probe the limits of societal fixation gone awry. Our national pastime is talking and thinking about Stella Star.

I have to admit, her TV portrayal is effortless. I can't think of Stella as anybody other than _Stella_, but this lonely apparition in front of me tells me otherwise. It seems like we have more in common than I realize. We're both trying to lead "normal" lives, even if our parameters for "normal" are completely different, but it's nice to know somebody who understands my preference for isolation. We're both incapable of interacting with others without adverse side effects. It'll be hard for her to find a true friend with crazy fans and stalkers constantly swarming her, and as for me, it's hard to get close to girls when all they do is make me feel like dying.

"Would it disappoint you if I said I wasn't?" she answers.

So she's not like her TV character? That's music to my ears. The last thing I need is a nosy girl who thinks she can solve all my problems with "magic." I'm glad she doesn't pander to expectation. It means she isn't a soulless automaton of the entertainment industry. She could not be any more blatantly objectified. They even sell _action figures_ of her, and let me tell you, not all of these figures are meant for childish recreational use.

But I'm the last guy to be talking about objectification since I've been training my brain this entire past summer to see women as mere objects, but I have good excuse for that. I'm just trying to transform these harbingers of doom into safe inanimate objects. It's not like I see girls as a tool for self-gratification, but there's always the possibility that a girl can see herself that way. Who better to fall into that trap than actresses and supermodels? Their entire livelihood is predicated on serving prurient interests, intentional or not.

"Nope. Be who you want to be," I encourage her.

"Then I'm your friend?"

The question catches me off guard. Why would a star like her make such a desperate plea for validation? I rummage my head for the answers. Psychology is the study of fundamental human thought. Case studies look at a variety of demographics from averages to outliers. A lot of literature is focused on universal concepts, which makes sense. There's not a lot of utility in studying celebrities. Companies want to market to the masses, so they don't really give a shit about high end clientele unless they manufacture luxury goods. It's a limited market, and you're better off catering to the lowest common denominator. The same principle applies to psychology.

That isn't to say that the material doesn't exist, since there are doctors out there who specialize in high-profile figures. We can safely extrapolate that their problems are similar to that of "everyday people," but the scale is different. Fame and riches makes it easy to access drugs, alcohol, and sex. If all that stuff gets handed to you on a silver platter, it's guaranteed to skew your sense of entitlement.

All of this to say: celebrities are people too. It's not a new idea. It's been approached, examined, and repeated dozens of times through biopics and autobiographies. They paint typical portraits of flawed but engaging personalities. Even celebrities can get depressed.

But she hasn't lived long enough to have such a riveting life journey and we're still in freakin' high school, so I'm sure she hasn't hit rock bottom yet. She probably has a manager that does everything for her. Perhaps she hasn't crossed that line of no return yet, when her trust in the world is shattered by con men, liars, and suck ups. She'll drift in this world, all alone, looking for a genuine human connection that can bypass the barriers of fame and privilege.

It won't be me.

If I'm forced to divulge her identity to save my own ass, I'll do it in a heartbeat. She has way more resources than I can ever lay claim to, so I won't have much sympathy for her if she's left hanging in the wind. Showbiz is cutthroat, why should real life be any different?

But I could use a friend. "Of course I'm your friend. Why wouldn't I be?"

She starts swinging her legs in glee. My answer totally made her day. It's pretty cute. "Thanks. Hearing that makes me...happy," she says.

"You're Destiny Island's star idol. Shouldn't everybody be your friend?"

Her head moves off to the side, and I get a glimpse of her profile. It's a dark outline, but a beautiful one. "My manager keeps me on a tight leash. He doesn't want my image to be _diluted_."

That doesn't surprise me. She's a textbook case of excellent PR management. There's not a single leak, scandal, or unflattering photo related to her. She's a media darling, and a saint among saints. Her co-stars aren't as squeaky clean. Drinking, drugs, partying, you name it and they've been implicated, which is perturbing since the cast is so young, but this is Destiny Islands. It ain't interesting if it ain't wrong.

"No offense, but your manager sounds like a douche."

"He's my dad," she clarifies.

That just makes it even worse. How many parents have micromanaged their child star straight into the gutter? "I make no apology for my statement."

She giggles again. Damn it, that wasn't supposed to make her laugh. I give my shoulders a quick rub to calm myself down.

"He's just overprotective. He doesn't want me making mistakes," she explains.

"He's robbing you of the experience of growing up. We're supposed to screw up and have fun doing it." It doesn't apply to me though, since I _never_ make mistakes.

She hums a pleasant melody. It's the _Chain of Memories_ theme song. It's a pleasant tune and I nod my head to it. She abruptly stops. Aww, and I was getting into it too. "I guess I already made my first one then."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Letting you find out my secret," she hums. She sounds a little too happy about that.

But it's not really her mistake. All the safeguards in the world can't stop me when I'm truly motivated. The second I set her in my sights, it was all but inevitable that I would discover her identity. There's no shame in admitting defeat. I was just too good.

The warning bell rings.

"Let's hurry to first period, we wouldn't want be late," she advises. She gets off the desk and readies herself to leave.

"You were too careless," I comment.

She stops by the door. "I sure was."

I pull the hood over my head and follow her out. We enter the halls again and join the crowds of students walking to their first period. Nobody spares us a glance. We're quite the combination. It seems like we're _even_ more invisible together. It makes sense; loners tend to stand out. We make it down the stairs and reach our classroom. She turns around and tilts her head up, giving me an ample view of her face.

Son of a bitch—

I avert my eyes before her beauty can sink to my stomach.

"This is where we split. I'll go in first. Good luck." I watch her footsteps disappear into the classroom before I stumble back. My arms feel numb and I can't stop my hand from shaking. That caught me completely off guard. It wasn't Kairi-levels of mass destruction, but it was damn close. She just had to pull that stunt at the last second.

I wait a few seconds for my body to return to equilibrium. After I gather myself, I enter the room. It's good to have a reminder every so often that I'm "love sick." I was starting to get complacent around her. Even if she hides her face, I still have to remember that she's a girl. I can't be lulled into a false sense of security.

I amble to my seat and collapse. I look around myself and laugh. Any delusions of security are short-lived. Class is a constant reminder of my place here:

To be surrounded by girls.

Lucky me.


	22. Look Very Closely

**Chapter 22: Look Very Closely  
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If eyes are truly "windows to the soul," then there'll be nothing but fire and brimstone in mine.

The last ten years of my life have been hell. My tortured soul wouldn't make a very pretty picture.

I wish it was true though. Imagine how convenient it would be. One look into my eyes and they'll know to leave me the hell alone. Unfortunately, eyes are just that, organs that let us see.

The idea was probably born out of the anxiety of being stared at. It can be unnerving. That unpleasant sensation of being watched can easily translate into vulnerability. But what do I know? I've always avoided eye contact, so I'm not qualified to comment on eye rape—which Xion seems completely intent on doing right now with her vicious gaze.

I just want to enjoy my first period in peace, but it's hard to do that when the girl sitting next to me is trying to make my head explode with invisible eye beams. It's too early for this kind of treatment.

"Yes?" I say, hoping to interrupt her stare down.

She finally blinks. I was starting to think she had no eye lids. "I guess I owe you an apology," she says grudgingly. The words seem painful for her to say. Is this a rare admission of defeat? Has she realized that I'm nothing like the monster her imagination has made me out to be?

"Apology accepted." She didn't actually say "sorry," but by accepting, I'm forcing her to—such is the power of implication.

She tries hard to suppress a scoff. "You're not going to ask me why?"

"No reason to question the obvious."

She shakes her head disbelievingly. "You try very hard to be unlikeable, don't you?" Old habits die hard. They're like zombies. No matter what I do, they just keep coming back with a vengeance. I guess once an asshole, always an asshole.

"What changed your mind then?" Other than the light of revelation and good sense smacking her on the head.

"Roxas." Damn it. Thanks to her, I just inadvertently called Roxas the "light of revelation and good sense," which is completely untrue. Now she's turning me into a liar. That is not cool. "He spoke highly of you, although I'm not sure I believe him 100%." I get the feeling that Xion is stingy with her trust. Her words carry an impressive amount of distance. Seems like she's been burned one too many times.

"Believe what you want, but I'm not a bad guy."

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, do your best to leave me alone," she warns. So she apologizes for treating me like the plague, and then turns around and treats me like the plague anyways. How wonderful.

"Whatever you want." Yeah right. Xion is too rare a specimen for me to let go that easily. I'll leave her alone for now and let her get comfortable, but then when she least expects it, bam! I'll pounce.

She turns away and pretends I don't exist anymore. She's determined to ignore me. It's a little rude, but I'm not gonna lose any sleep over it. It's only a matter of time before she shows a weakness, and I have all the patience in the world.

I look up to see Ms. Holland in full swing. She paces around the room, speaking about the finer points of syntax and diction. She catches my stare and we exchange glances. Her lecture hiccups momentarily before she averts her gaze.

It looks like I've finally established myself as a classroom hazard. That's probably the last time she's going to acknowledge me, lest I unleash a torrent of embarrassment upon her again.

That's one teacher down—only five more to go. I got lucky with Ms. Holland. She's a newbie, so it was easy to disillusion her, but the other instructors are too experienced for my cheap tricks. At least I can rest comfortably knowing that first period is truly conquered.

Not quite yet, actually. There's someone in this class I need to talk to, and his name is Tidus Zanarkand. By virtue of his talents on the blitzball team, he is entitled to a certain amount of respect and admiration. As a rookie last year, he wasn't able to contribute much, but he improved a lot towards the end of the season. It's only the star players that get the star treatment, but all signs point to this year as his time to shine.

But the only thing I care about is whether or not he remembers kindergarten. Whatever happened back then, it must've been traumatic, because every time I try to remember, I hit mental blocks. My mind is telling me that I don't want to know, but my heart is telling me otherwise: I _need_ to know.

I turn around and start searching the room. I spot him easily in the blitzball uniform that shamelessly shows off his chest and arms. It makes sense since blitzball is a watersport, but it's mostly for cosmetic reasons. The fanbase for our team is actually bigger outside of the islands and is overwhelmingly female.

I twiddle my thumbs, waiting for an opportunity to approach. Something like group work or free study should suffice, and to my rare fortune, it comes ten minutes later.

I get up from my seat and approach. None of the seats around him are empty so I'm forced crouch down in front of him.

"Uh… Can I help you?" he asks.

Tidus is a guy, which means I don't have to think about my words carefully. I'll just cut straight to the chase. "We had kindergarten together. Do you remember?"

"Kindergarten?" His blue eyes haze over as he probes his memories. "You were there with me?" Not a good start. He might need some more details to jog his memory a little.

"Yes, we were in the same class. Do you remember anything from that time?"

He digs into his dirty blonde scalp nervously. "Of course, but what's this about? You're putting me on the spot all of a sudden."

"Just look at me and imagine a younger version of myself. Do you remember anything about a kid like that hanging around with another girl? She could've been a redhead, if that helps." I thought about making an allusion to Kairi, but that might open up a whole new can of rumors, so I'll keep it vague but descriptive enough.

He struggles to string together something coherent. "It's hard to think when you stare at me like that," he whines. Suck it up. My stare is nothing compared to the gorgon gaze Xion gave me ten minutes ago.

"Don't you regularly play blitzball with thousands of spectators looking at you?" I'm just one guy. I shouldn't be having this much of an effect on him.

"It's just—"

"Fine." I turn away to look at the surroundings. I guess he doesn't like being stared at. People have their own weird quirks and insecurities, who am I to trample over them?

A brief look around reveals curious glances. I remember that people are still searching for me. Kupopo is probably being lit up with Kupos about me right now. I can't be bothered by it; my desire to learn the past far outweighs my need for incognito.

"Wait, you're Sora, aren't you?" It took him that long to realize? Guess I'm not as popular as I thought.

"That's right."

"Actually, now that you mention it, I do remember an assignment from kindergarten. The teacher had us make get-well cards for somebody in class, a boy who had to stay at the hospital for a couple weeks."

"And that somebody was me?"

"Maybe? If you were him, shouldn't you remember?" Unfortunately, that's not always the case. Repressed memories are a bitch. "But are you sure we had the same class together?" he repeats.

"I have an old photo from kindergarten. You were in it," I explain succinctly.

"Really? I had no idea. That's kinda crazy. Doesn't that mean we've known each other for years?"

"Not really. It just means we met a long time ago."

He gives me an indecipherable look, which is rather puzzling since I pride myself in my ability to read faces. We're both strangers as far as I know; he shouldn't have any strong feelings for me either way. "But, uh… If you really wanted to know about kindergarten, why don't you ask the teacher?" Huh, the thought hadn't occurred to me. "She was Ms. Nora, I think?"

Ms. Nora Estheim. I recall the full name from the class photo. I guess I know where I have to go now: Destiny Islands Elementary School. This investigation is taking me to all sorts of places. It would suck to hit a dead end after all this. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem."

I go back to my seat.

The air feels a little warmer than usual. I look around and notice all the burning stares directed towards me. Where are their manners? Didn't anybody tell them that it's rude to stare like that?

So this is how it feels like to be under the microscope. I don't have a lot of experience with being popular, but I'm sure it's not supposed to be this irritating. This much attention usually triggers mild symptoms of nervous sweat, numbness, and a restless tingly sensation that covers my body. It's an endurance run at this point. I wonder how long I can last.

I take a deep breath and exhale. What can I do to distract myself? Perhaps I should daydream? If it weren't for daydreams, we'd all die of boredom. It's an interesting mental mechanism. Our minds are hardwired to escape from boredom. We don't like to sit still; it runs contrary to our natural impulse, which is to run. We need movement, even if it's all in our brain.

Using this miracle of mental diversion, I find myself floating outside my body. I don't believe in astral projection by any means, but I do believe the mind can enter an elevated state of consciousness where time flows differently. It's a trance that sends me spiraling into a separate reality. Unburdened by my mortal coil, I'm free to think of anything—like a world where I can speak freely to anybody without fear of repercussion.

In this magical world of mine, there's already a visitor. I wonder who it is? Why, it's little Kairi, a toddling little minx with an adorable smile and a bob of auburn on top. She's wearing a breezy white dress and smiles at me. Is this how she looks like when she was a kid?

If we were really friends, then we must've played with each other.

So I push her on the swings and marvel at the way her hair dances in the wind. Her childish giggles ring in my ears.

I see myself building sandcastles by the beach with her. She pours a bucket of water into the moat that surrounds my palace.

We scrawl on the same paper, our crayons running into each other's hands.

Imagination is one helluva drug. It seems so easy to create something out of thin air. But...there's the possibility that these images _aren't_ made up. What if these are actually my memories?

"Sora."

I open my eyes.

Ms. Holland stands before me.

"Class is over," she reveals hesitantly.

"Oh…thanks for letting me know." The next period class is already shuffling in. Was I just on the cusp of an epic revelation? Oh well, there's still plenty of time to get lost in daydreams. If I could recover lost memories through sheer force of will, it would've happened a long time ago. Maybe I should take up yoga and do some sensory deprivation exercises. A little meditation might be all I really need.

I leave the classroom and cover my face with the hoodie. I have no doubt that there's still people looking for me in an effort to garner favor with our new school idol. I manage to avoid attention and sneak into my next period, history with Ms. Lockhart.

I plop down on my seat and prepare myself for another mind-numbing session of class.

**Click.**

Is that the sound of a camera shutter? I turn around to come to face-to-face with a giant camera lens. I instinctively turn away before the shutter closes.

**Snap!**

"Aww man, why'd you turn so suddenly? It's all blurry now!" Good. That's what I was going for.

My eyes move from the fancy looking camera to the boy who's holding it.

Well this is certainly interesting, it's not often you see a boy of his stature here. He has a little extra girth around the waist. He's not morbidly obese, but by the standards of Destiny Islands, he might as well be. A headband wraps around his forehead, causing his hair to sprout like a pineapple leaf. He's definitely a support-type—a measuring stick.

Measuring sticks exist for one reason, to make someone else look better. If everybody was beautiful, then nobody would be. Contrast is the only way we can make out the differences. It's messed up, but Destiny Islands needs measuring sticks like him. Now what does a measuring stick want with me?

"Who the hell are you?" I don't take kindly to having my picture taken.

He puts the camera down and lets it dangle from his neck. "I'm Pence Marquette, photographer extraordinaire!" Great, another nutjob to my list of insane company.

"I don't know if you know this, Pence, but it's against the law to take pictures of somebody without their permission." The ones who can run around and take pictures willy nilly is the crew of Destiny High Times. It's actually part of the contract when enrolling here. Every student here is subject to the whims of the camera crew, but I'm pretty sure this "Pence" has no affiliation with the show, and is just a freelancer.

"In that case, will you give me permission?" he asks earnestly.

"No." And that's the end of that. I turn around but he gets in front of me.

"Don't be so hasty. Can't we negotiate first?" He wants to negotiate? Good luck with that, he has no leverage.

"You got nothing I want, so leave me alone." I'm not stupid. I know what his game is. He's trying to make a buck off of Kairi's wild goose chase. The less ammo those fools have to find me, the better.

"Are you sure about that? What about this?" He whips out a photo. Please, as if—wait, is that Kairi in a swimsuit?

It takes every ounce of my strength to keep my stomach from self-destructing.

"Like what you see?" he says suggestively. For a photographer, he sure is bad at reading body language. If I'm doubled over in pain with a hand clamped over my mouth, me "liking what I see" should be the last thing on his mind.

"How did you get that?" I know that Kairi is photogenic enough to make even a cell phone photo shine, but this is the work of no amateur.

"Something like this is nothing. You can say, I specialize in this kind of capture."

"So you're a voyeur?"

He appears offended. "I prefer the term _chronicler_ myself. Who else will record these moments that would otherwise be lost forever?" Or maybe he's just a pervert with a camera.

Oddly enough though, I really want that photo. Why? Because 000KTP/JPG ain't cutting it no more. I could use more training material, but not at the price of my anonymity.

"You gotta be kidding me. One measly photo in exchange for the bank you're gonna make by throwing me to the sharks? I demand 80% royalty and photoshops to the point of unrecognizable if you want any chance of permission." With such ridiculous terms, I'm sure he'll give up now.

"How unrecognizable are we talking about?" Not the response I was expecting.

"I don't know. Change my hair color, make it black, and gimme golden eyes or something," I throw out randomly. "You're not seriously thinking about this are you?"

He grins delightfully. "It's not so much the money that drives me; it's the opportunity to capture something not too many people see," he explains passionately. I don't know whether to be offended or flattered.

"I'm hardly a rare specimen. I'm just a guy, like everyone else."

"Not just any guy, but the one Kairi is looking for. That makes you a special commodity. Besides, I've done my homework. I couldn't find a single picture of you anywhere, and believe me, I've tried. The only reason I found you was because we're in the same class. How can I pass up the chance to be the first to capture you on film? So whaddya say?" I can already tell he's not going to give up.

"What are the chances that you'll leave me alone if I say no?"

"No chance in hell," he says happily.

"I'll take that chance then." I've only been in hell for as long as I could remember. What's a few more years?

"You say that now, but… I know you'll see it my way soon enough. If you ever change your mind, call me." He slams Kairi's photo on my desk. Thankfully, it's face down. On the back is his number. How convenient. "Consider this a memento from yours truly." He slinks back to his seat.

What a scary guy. With that kind of cutthroat approach, it's no surprise he's lasted this long, and as a photographer, he's the ultimate ego stroker on an island of egos. He could be a very dangerous opponent, and if I'm not careful enough, nude photos of me might leak out across the Mooglesphere. I can't sleep on this guy.

He did leave me a nice memento. I peek underneath the photo and slap it back down again. Yeah, it's gonna take some time before I can look at this picture normally. I slip it into my pocket for future reference.

"Sora, pay attention, class is starting!"

"Yes, ma'am." Unlike Ms. Holland, Lockhart is too volatile to mess with. It's best to behave. She packs a mean wallop, and the last thing I want is a Lockhart special haymaker.

I settle into my seat and lament my terrible luck. There's no end to them. Everybody and their mom wants a piece of me now. What did I do to deserve this? I still have four more periods to go—not to mention, the date with Rikku at the end.

It'll be a miracle if I make it to the end of this day.

Wish me luck.


	23. According to Sources

**Chapter 23: According to Sources  
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Laughter can be a double-edged sword.

It can lift the soul, and it can crush the soul. It's supposed to be a good thing, but if everybody's laughing at you, it doesn't feel so good now, does it? I've had my fair share of being laughed at, mostly because I threw up at the worst times, but that's all in the past.

So it doesn't bother me too much to hear Olette giggling at me. I don't know why she is, but the effect is undeniable. A girl's giggle always runs a train on my spine. It floats on that magic frequency that can vibrate objects to the point of explosion. It's only my years of training that stop me from convulsing out of my seat. Class barely started and I'm already running into shenanigans.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

She sobers when she sees my dour face. "Sorry, it's just that—I know Pence." Her face softens apologetically. "I'm sorta the reason he approached you. He was asking around and I told him that we actually shared class together. I hope you're not mad?" Mad? Hardly. Miffed? Maybe a little. Her remorseful face does a lot to deflate my irritation, but it also gets my stomach rumbling. I keep my eyes trained on the desk.

While I could certainly do without the attention of a perverted photographer, I have a feeling he was going to find me regardless. She just sped up the inevitable. I should be thanking her for getting it out of the way so early.

A man on a mission is not to be taken lightly. No matter how many barriers and obstacles you put up, if he's passionate enough, he'll find a way to break it down. But that kind of dogged determination is only reserved for few things; like love, the future, or even something sinister like revenge. It makes me wonder why these people are chasing me with such ferocity. What did I ever do to them? It's like I somehow became the most interesting man in the world overnight, and I don't even drink.

"How long have you two known each other?" I wonder.

"We go way back, since elementary school." I glance over to see her smiling fondly, as if mentioning the fact brought back memories of the good ol' days. They've known each other for a minimum of three years—a fifth of our lives. That's quite a feat.

Olette and Hayner are looking like poster children for longevity. It seems like everything they do is steeped in history. They may be approachable individually, but when you put them together, I bet they form some sort of bubble of nostalgia that repels all outsiders.

"Has he always been like this?"

She giggles sweetly. "Yeah. He's always been a shutterbug. He's actually a really good photographer, even if some of his photos are a little…questionable." I think it goes beyond just "questionable." Even though I've only seen one photo of his, I don't doubt that he has a secret collection that's even more risqué than swimsuits—and it probably treads into illegal territory too.

"I'm sure your pictures are sold at a premium," I let out. I chance a look at her reaction.

"What?" Her cheeks become red like a tomato. "I don't—I mean—he doesn't have anything like that."

He does.

If they've known each for as long as she claims, then there's a high chance that she was his first test subject. She's probably been photographed hundreds of times but hasn't even realized it.

"You're right, but if he was offering, I wouldn't hesitate to buy one."

"That's…" She turns away in embarrassment. "Thanks."

I take a deep breath and let my body relax. "It's nothing."

That went rather smoothly. Although Kairi remains a permanent source of stress in my life, she has done wonders for my interactions with other girls. I'm not completely out of the woods, but the trees are thinning out. I'm making progress.

I gently stroke my lips with my fingertips. My mouth has gotten a mind of its own lately. More and more often, I'm letting loose unintentional flirt bombs. All those years of reading are finally catching up to me. I've studied seduction techniques religiously in order to subvert them, but since I've shifted my focus from repulsion to integration, I'm finding myself saying all kinds of things I don't mean to.

I used to cue up these lines in my head for reverse processing when the opportunity presented itself. For instance, if a girl asks me, "What are you thinking about?" The natural seductive response is to say, "You." With reverse processing, I change that answer into something like "none of your business." It's a simple example, and there's far more nuance to the range of triggers I encounter. If a girl is locked onto me, I have a full arsenal of retorts at my disposal, all of them customized to get her off my back.

I don't to repel girls anymore, but that doesn't mean I want to attract them either. This is frustrating. I can't even have a normal conversation with a girl because I've never had a normal conversation with a girl before. My interactions have always been on one end of an extreme. I wanted to ease into normal behavior patterns around them, but Kairi's sudden appearance accelerated my development and destroyed that gap between total jerk and master of seduction. Now I'm stuck between jerkface and playboy modes. I need to carve out that middle ground somehow.

Most history lessons aren't accompanied by punches in the air, but Ms. Lockhart is a little more enthusiastic than your average teacher. Her teaching is more like a training session than an academic lecture.

"_Is there anybody who can tell me what year the Destiny Reforms were enacted?_"

**Right hook! **

"_How about the date when it was repealed?_"

**Left Jab!** "

_Bonus points for the name of the person who oversaw the legislative process?_"

**The finishing blow!**

If I encounter a question on the test, I'll just think of the combinations she threw.

What year was Destiny Islands founded?

The same year as the uppercut.

I don't know if I'm gonna be studying or shadowboxing at home when it's time for midterms. Thankfully, class ends without me getting punched in the face. I'm certain it's gonna happen one of these days, and it probably won't be an accident.

I roll the hood over my head and make a beeline for Naminé's secret room of wonders and bad paintings. It's break time and the sharks are still roaming; I need a good hiding place. I avoid everybody and make it to the top floor. Compared to the rest of the school, it's sparse. There's hardly anybody here. An empty hall is a great hall in my book. I walk up to the abandoned art room and twist the knob. It doesn't budge. Damn it, I don't have the key.

"Looking for this?" a voice announces. A gloved hand comes into sight and pushes a key into the knob, unlocking the door. Well that solves that, but it's going to be a hassle if I have to rely on her to open the door every time I want to get in.

"You wouldn't happen to have a spare, would you?"

Naminé walks into the room. "Sorry."

I follow after her and breathe a sigh of relief. I wonder how long people are going to be searching for me. I hope it's only for today. I can't imagine any self-respecting man thinking that catching me would somehow increase his chances with Kairi in any tangible way.

"For someone who doesn't want to be discovered, you sure don't act like it," she said. That almost sounded like a joke. I'm not used to hearing so much feeling from a coat.

"Whatever do you mean?" I say with a shrug.

"You're associating with populars. It must be something important if you had to talk to Tidus."

"I thought we agreed not to tell each about our secrets?"

She's silent for a moment. "No we didn't."

It was worth a shot. Looks like I can't fool that easily. "It was implied," I suggest.

She shakes her head and I see her scalp sliding underneath the hood. It's very unsettling, like something crawling underneath leather skin. "Why are you trying so hard to hide? Are you afraid of something?"

"What gave you that idea?" I'm going to roll with the classic strategy of answering questions with even more questions.

"Most people run or hide because they want to avoid something," she states plainly. I can't argue with that, all I've been doing this whole week is running and hiding. "But what are you trying to avoid?"

"Speak for yourself," I say dryly.

"I'm an actor. It makes sense." Actually, there's something off about that. It's been bugging me for awhile but…

"Why are you going to school anyways? If I were you, I'd just stay at home and enjoy the millions of dollars you make off of each episode." The only reason we go to school is to give ourselves the chance to get a high paying job. She's already accomplished that.

"I don't make _that_ much… It's closer to 160,000 munny per episode." There goes my dad and mom's salary for the year. She makes that much in a single episode? That's amazing.

"Which begs the question, what is the purpose of going to school when you've already got it made?"

"Who knows?" What is this? Is she dancing around my question?

"I thought you were above that. What are you playing mind games for?"

She giggles. "I think you've got a mistaken impression of me."

"But I—" On second thought, I do recall a case of mistaken impression earlier this morning with Xion. Perhaps I'm suffering from the same distorted perspective? I've only spoken to Naminé two times so far. How much can you learn about a person in two encounters? I have no idea what's lurking underneath her hood. What if it she pulls it off and it's a freaking lizard head? "Care to clear things up for me then?"

She sits down before an unfinished painting. It looks suspiciously like me, except I'm a slightly more corporeal than a spiky blob of brown paint. "If you must know, I'm here to learn." Is she trying to be funny?

"Learn what?"

She takes a brush and dips it into blue paint. She gently dabs it against the brown blob. Cool, my hair has eyes now. "How to act, of course."

Why does that answer not surprise me? Because it's the only one that makes sense. There's no better practice than the real thing, but is it really that simple?

"And here I thought you were trying to get a taste of the normal life."

"Isn't that what you're trying to do?" she throws back.

"You say this based on what?" I say, acting clueless.

"I share a couple of classes with you, and I've seen plenty. I think you would be a great addition to the cast. You've got acting skills." So she's noticed. I can't be _that_ great of an actor considering everybody sees through me—Kairi for example.

"No thanks, but I'm not cut out for showbiz." I'm trying to avoid the spotlight, not jump into it.

"Even though Laguna's trying to recruit you for Destiny High Times?" she reveals suddenly.

Wait—huh? This—that…what?

"How do you know that?" I ask abruptly. That is not common knowledge.

"Word gets around in the business."

"I thought you were just an actor." There are too many possibilities running through my head right now. I have to narrow them down.

"The entertainment business is a small one, especially on an island like this." That's what I get for trusting an industry driven by rumors and gossip. "If you sign with Chain of Memories, your contract will prevent you from showing up on Destiny High Times. Which would you rather sign with?"

Death or exile? Death by exile.

"I'll go with none, thank you very much." She takes the brush and starts painting yellow lines around the blue-brown blob. "What on earth is that?" I ask curiously.

"A premonition of the future," she answers. She turns around, puts her hand forward, makes a rectangle with her fingers, and puts me in her sights. "You're going to become a star. That's my prediction."

"You're getting ahead of yourself there."

"Or maybe you're just behind the curve," she counters cheerily.

Damn it, this girl is too good. I knew that sullen act was too good to be true. She's a high powered celebrity. Why did I ever think otherwise? And now she's got me like a sucker. "I think I owe you an apology."

"For what?"

"For underestimating you."

She giggles cutely. "Don't say that…yet."

I'm looking forward to it—not.

Break ends, and I'm left with something to chew on. We share next period, so we stealth it to class together. It's math with Ms. Trepe.

The second I walk in, a hand grips me by the shoulder. "So Sora, how's progress for your boy going?"

Yikes. I forgot about this guy. My life is such a mess right now. There are so many things to keep track of, I'm surprised I'm still standing here at all. A lot of things have changed since Riku issued his challenge to me. For one, Roxas is no longer in my care. I'm booked for the next couple days. I'll just have to put my trust in Xion, even though she clearly doesn't feel the same for me. "He's in good hands, thanks for asking."

"So it's true then? I heard Xion's been helping out." Does privacy no longer exist in this day and age? How does he know about Xion? Why does everybody know everything about what everybody is doing?

"Maybe," I reply coyly.

"Heh," he scoffs. "Good luck with that. Xion and me go way back, and let me tell you, if she's the one teaching your boy, prepare yourself for disappointment."

"Why's that?"

"Because that girl only knows how to let people down," he says cryptically. "Only five more days til Monday. I hope your boy's ready by then. I'd like a challenge, you know?" With that, he goes back to his seat and does what it is he does, which is…I don't know, act pretty in front of the camera or something.

But he can't give a loaded answer like that and just leave. Something must've happened between them. I could speculate further, but really, I couldn't care less. The longer I stand here, the more likely Ms. Trepe is going to announce her presence in painful whipping fashion.

I take my seat and think things over. Riku is a player among players. He has played so much, he doesn't even play anymore; he plays the players who play, that's how advanced he's gotten. And Xion is a player-hater of the highest magnitude.

I think I just solved this mystery. The particulars don't matter, but I suppose it goes something like this:

Xion likes Riku but he's player and breaks her heart. Thus, an aversion to all ways of playing is born. She starts hating on him, and he doesn't appreciate that, so he hates her back. Mutual enmity established. Oddly enough, the disappointment runs both ways. I wonder who's really at fault here?

Whatever, I'm expending too many mental cycles on something meaningless. What I find more interesting is how quickly Naminé disappeared. I thought we walked in at the same time, but she was nowhere to be found the moment Riku touched me. I think I have to concede the title of "ultimate ninja" to her.

So another math lesson goes by, complete with variables, numbers, and lashes.

Next up is Science with Ms. Branford. Exactly twenty-four hours ago, in this period, Rikku shook me down for a date. I wonder how I should play it. Pretend it never happened? Feign amnesia? There are plenty of angles, but is there one that can get me off the hook?

"Ready for this afternoon?" she squeals upon my sighting. My body is wracked by a strong shudder. The bubbly ones always pack an extra punch.

Let's feign ignorance. "Why? What's happening this afternoon?"

"We're going to get that guitar for you!" Aw shit. I forgot. Damn you, Roxas. He's always screwing me over. I still have to get a guitar for him. I totally forgot the reason for this date. That seals it, I don't have a choice, not unless I feel like paying for a guitar—which I don't. "Are you excited?"

I sit down and cross my arms. "I'm as a giddy as a pumpkin."

"You know what also makes you giddy? Nitrous oxide. If you're going to have conversations in my class, keep the topics relevant at least," Ms. Branford interrupts.

"Don't worry, we'll pay attention! Right, Sora?" Rikku shoots me a smirk.

I apply pressure to my abdomen and nod. "Yeah."

"Interesting…" the teacher says. "Now then, let's move on to the lesson…"

Branford's lecture occupies every last minute of the period, leaving few chances for Rikku to say anything. When the bell finally rings, she goes up to me. "I'll be seeing you soon. Meet me by the gate after school, kay?"

"Like I have a choice?"

She smiles and leaves.

It's lunch time and I'm hungry. Do I take my chances and get lunch, increasing the possibility of getting discovered, or should I just skip it? My stomach grumbles. There's my answer.

I pull the hood over my head as far as I can and sift through bodies. I make it towards the cafeteria in record time. The shorter I have to wait in line, the faster I can get my lunch, and then I'll camp out in some dark corner of the school and enjoy my meal in peace. It's a good plan. Like last time, I look for a strategic cutting spot.

There!

I slip in when the guy's not looking and pretend as if I've been standing there all along. Confidence can take you far. As long as you act like you belong, most people will never think to question you. It takes only two minutes for me to reach the front. I take my tray and skedaddle out of there.

Today's lunch: grilled tilapia with broccoli and cauliflower.

I find a reasonably remote area under a shady tree and sit on the grass. I look around. The coast is clear. I pull off my hood and give my hair the air it deserves. I feel better already. I take my fork and start digging into my fish.

"How's the food here?"

Son of a—

Where the hell did _she_ come from? Naminé's leaning against the tree with a paper bag in hand. "Are you stalking me?" I accuse.

"Great minds just think alike. I thought this was a nice spot too. Besides, I was here first," she answers.

"I almost didn't see you. Let me guess, you played the tree in your elementary school play?"

"I even managed to outperform the leads."

I chuckle. "If you want me that badly, just go out and say it already. Aren't we a little too old to play follow the leader?"

She ignores my quip. "Is the food nice? I've never actually tried it here."

"It's lean," I answer. The fish barely has any seasoning. My eyes are drawn to her brown paper lunch bag, a classic prop if I ever saw one. "I've always wanted to know what stars eat. What's in the paper bag? Hydrogen and helium?"

"Nothing too heavy." She pulls out cheese and crackers. Seriously? She makes 160,000 per episode and eats cheese and crackers for lunch?

"At least get lunchables."

She takes a cracker and puts it close to her face. It disappears like magic. "You're just jealous."

Maybe a little.

This is probably the first time I've had lunch with a girl and not feel like throwing up. Is this normalcy? It helps when the only thing that lets me know she's a girl is her voice, and even then, it could be an imposter who's really good at doing girly voices.

"So what are you going to do?" she asks me.

"About?"

"About Roxas and Kairi."

I spit out my cauliflower. "Who exactly are your sources? Are they the same as Riku's, the same as Kairi's, the same as Xion's? I swear everybody's got a direct line except me." I have to crawl through bushes and interview unsavory characters for my info, and these punks drop it like leaves on an autumn day.

"I've heard a few things."

"Right. Since you already know what's going on, there's no point in hiding it then. For Roxas and Kairi, I'm just going to leave it up to fate. As long as it's not me, the outcome doesn't matter."

She adopts a contemplative posture. "Isn't that cold?"

"I'm not leaving him entirely helpless. I gave him some pointers in confidence and I'm gonna get him a guitar so he could work his music magic—if there's any there. If he fails after all that, then it's as far as he could go. At least this way, he has a shot whereas before, he had nothing. I'm just kicking him into the pool. Whether he sinks or swims is up to him."

"Hmmm…" she hums thoughtfully.

How aggravating. "Is there something you want to say?"

"Just a word of warning: Don't expect things to play according to the script. Things change when you least expect it. It happens all the time in the business."

"Should you be talking so freely? You do realize that your secret is in my hands?" I threaten subtly.

She laughs uncharacteristically. "HAHAHAHA! Oh Sora, you silly boy." She gets on her feet and crushes her bag. "It's the other way around." She throws the crumpled bag at me and slinks away. "Later!"

What the hell am I supposed to do with her garbage? I open the bag and find a spare set of cheese and crackers. Is she giving them to me? How generous. I take off the wrapper and grab the red stick, aka, the cheese application apparatus. I spread the cheese cream over the cracker and shove it into my mouth.

Delicious.


	24. I See You

**Chapter 24: I See You  
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I'm skipping class.

Not something I do often, but the idea of facing Kairi is too daunting. My pitiful mind can hardly conceive of the possibilities, each outcome carrying only the promise of destruction. It's best to avoid confrontation, so I'll stay snug in my little pocket of paradise on campus, away from wandering eyes.

The lunch bell rang long ago, but I haven't moved from my spot under the tree. It's a fairly desolate area, so I'm not worried about being discovered. If I had the option, I'd rather camp out in the Art room, but only Naminé has the key. At least out here, there's plenty of fresh air and warm sunshine, and I don't have to look at horrible portraits of myself.

I take out my cell phone with a new strategy in mind. Perhaps it's time to cast off my Luddite ways and join the modern generation. I'm going to create a Kupopo account. Social networking isn't for keeping in touch, it's for spying on friends. People are dumb enough to tell the world what they feel and see and I'm smart enough to take advantage of it. The best thing about it? It's absolutely free. A random kid on campus sees something and kupos it, and his followers rekupo it until it spreads throughout the whole school. Since nobody's being paid to be accurate, the bullshit quotient is high, but as long as you can separate the wheat from the chaff, it can be a remarkably useful tool. Perhaps this is how everybody has been getting their information? I already have a few people in mind to follow, such as Selphie, the gossip queen, and Pence, voyeur extraordinaire. I get the feeling he has nothing but upskirt photos on his account. With this, I might be able to do some preemptive damage control.

What should my name be? I only need to keep track of the rumor mill, so it should be as generic as possible. I got it: someguy7672. Nothing like random numbers to render a username utterly forgettable, but these numbers aren't totally random. They stand for "SORA," but I doubt anyone will care enough to figure that out. I finalize the details of my account and return to my pleasant break from school.

It's peaceful. These are the moments I yearn for, to feel the cool breeze sifting through my hair, the fresh scent of pine in the air, and the warm sunshine on my face. I'm satisfied with this... Okay, not entirely. Things can always be better. I suppose it's impossible for humans to be truly alone. A small part of me wants to share this moment with somebody—a girlfriend maybe? I'm such a joker; as if such things are achievable in this lifetime.

I'm getting ahead of myself. I have a date to prepare for. I lounge on the grass until fifth period ends, firmly establishing today as Kairi-free. I don't expect to run into her anytime soon. Should skip sixth period too? I'm not in any rush to get abused by Ms. Lightning, but if she finds out I skipped her class, the punishment might be even more severe tomorrow. I get up grudgingly and head towards the gym.

Hindsight is 20/20, and I wish I hadn't shown up. The very moment Lightning sees me, she issues non-stop suicide runs. My legs are about to fall off. Fifty laps later, and I'm waiting outside by the school gate. I have no idea what Lightning's problem with me is, but it's killing me. Just add it as another mystery to my backlog of things to solve. I lean against a pole and watch the school empty out from the shadows. My hood is fully extended, which allows me to search for Rikku's bright and cheery face without much risk.

These main gates are famous for being featured in just about every school drama ever made. There's always a token shot of students leaving and entering for scene transitions. I look out into the street to see if there are any cameramen. Even if it's just a token shot, I don't want to be in it.

"Sora!"

I sense immediate danger and leap away from an incoming Rikku. She winds up hugging the pole instead. I avoided death by the narrowest of margins! My heart os beating rapidly, and it gets even worse when she turns to me and smiles. I would've preferred a look of disappointment. I can't handle such happy-looking expressions. "Rikku…"

I really have no idea how to talk to her. Naminé is fine because she covers up all traces of her femininity, and Xion is no problem because she looks like a boy—and hates me; Olette is easy to manage as well, since she's always on the defense, but Rikku is one tough cookie. She is exquisitely female, and her outfit serves as a none-too-subtle reminder of that. I don't think I'll ever figure her out. She hates me for the last four years, but now all of a sudden, she's happy to be my friend. It doesn't make sense. This is precise moment to solve her mystery once and for all.

"Interesting style choice," she comments, looking at my hood. "So ya ready?" She lets go of the pole. This isn't normal. She's too happy. Shouldn't she be hurling insults at me? I know I remedied things between us, but this kind of turnaround is suspicious. Patches take time to install; nothing's ever instant.

"Have you gone mad?" That's jerk-Sora talking. I wasn't supposed to let him out, but its hard to suppress reflex.

It appears to have no effect however, as she proceeds to crack her fingers in front of me. I wince as I hear the bones snap into place. "Did you say something?"

"Never mind." She's in her la-la-I'm-not-listening-to-anything-you're-saying mode. This calls for caution. I shove my hands into my pockets nonchalantly and maintain a respectable distance. "So, let's go get that guitar."

"Alright!" she yells, throwing her arms up before folding it behind her head. I flinch from her exuberant outburst. She levels her gaze at me. "I'm hungry. You mind if we get some food first?" It's a cheap ploy to convert this outing into a more legitimate "date."

"Yes, I mind."

"Great, let's go! I hear the Secret Place has a special on the paopu plate right now." I'm totally ignored. Such is the power of la-la mode. I'm getting no respect. I should ditch her at the restaurant. That'll show her.

I debate whether to protest or go along with it. The path of least resistance might end this sooner than being a prick, but it always gives me such an uncomfortable, greasy, slimy feeling to let people have their way uncontested. That's what I hate about my condition. It forces me to think about my words carefully. Can't a guy just run his mouth freely? All this planning to avoid throwing up is a pain in the ass. Whatever, I'll go along with it. "Lead the way."

"Have you ever been to the Secret Place?" she asks, walking briskly towards the direction of Sky Plaza.

Ah yes, the Secret Place, a premier restaurant smack dab in the middle of Sky Plaza. Its claim to fame is its famous paopu plate, something I can never eat. Why? Because I'm allergic to paopu fruit. It's a shame, I know, but what can I do?

I glance around to see if anyone notices me. If I'm caught with Rikku, I can't even begin to fathom the ramifications of such a rumor. I lag a few steps behind for insurance. She turns around and watches me for a few seconds before making a goofy grin. "Why are you so far away? I don't bite…too hard anyways." She can't be _that_ ignorant? There's only a hurricane of rumors surrounding me. One witness and she and I will be sharing the front page of the Destiny High tabloids.

"If you haven't noticed, I'm a gossip magnet right now. I'm trying to spare you the pain of rumors."

"Puh-leaze, you have to give me more credit than that. If I can deal with _Pukku_, then I can deal with a little rumor. I can think of worse rumors than to be mistaken for your girlfriend." She shoots me a smile that implies the impossible. A shiver cracks my spine. I'm surprised my body hasn't broken from all the quivering and shaking I've been doing lately. It's time to book that appointment with the chiropractor.

"..." I don't respond. How can I? No matter what I say, it'll end horribly for me. Sometimes, the winning move is to not play at all.

"Hurry up," she urges. "We don't have all day, don't you want to get that guitar?" Yes, but at what cost? I'm not going to sell my soul just so my cousin can pretend to be a musician.

"You're the one that wants to eat first," I say quietly.

"I'd rather waste time eating than walking. Speed it up, spiky hare." It takes me a moment before I get it. I have to admit, that was pretty clever.

"I guess nicknames are your specialty, huh?"

She doesn't acknowledge. She continues to saunter down the streets, swinging her arms like an excited toddler. Quite an image compared to the sullen Rikku of old. There's about seven feet between us. From this distance, I can appreciate her beauty without consequence. If there's one thing I can say about her, it's that she works out, and it shows. Her body is toned, taut, and terrifying. Any closer and I'll be nursing migraines. It doesn't help when her clothes are skimpy, barely covering her torso, and exposes her inviting neck and shoulders. Will I be forever doomed to gawk at girls from behind glass cases? If I dare trespass that invisible barrier, it may spell the end of me. Life's hard for a G.

Our surroundings soon morph into the retro-modern trappings of Sky Plaza. The buildings take on a classic sheen; old-school architecture typified by bright and bold coloring, but next to them are ultra-sleek buildings with shiny exteriors and curved metal. It's a strange mash up of old and new that doesn't exactly blend together perfectly. Sky Plaza's famous attraction, the biggest paopu tree in the world, stands tall at the center.

"And here we are," she announces gleefully. She's stopped in front of a doorway. I look up at the sign above the entrance which simply says "Welcome." It's a running gag here to screw around with tourists looking for the Secret Place. Only those who can find it without help are worthy enough to enter. Otherwise, it's the best tourist spot that most tourists can't spot. "Let's go in."

I'm not sure about what to expect inside. I've never been in here since their signature dish is literally killer. My mom drilled that warning into me repeatedly, "_When you go out,_ _make sure you don't eat anything with paopu fruit in it._"

I pass through velvet curtains to a low-lit cavernous space dotted with round tables. The walls are lined with comfortable stalls. I get a sleazy night club vibe with the dim lights and closed windows. Loud tropical music pounds through the speakers. The place certainly lives up to its name. I can totally imagine seedy backroom deals going down here between gangsters. At least it doesn't smell of cigarettes or booze. This is, after all, a family restaurant.

"Will it be three"—the waitress glances up—"sorry, I mean two, for today?"

"Yup," Rikku answers.

"Alright, follow me." I trail them loosely and sneak peeks at the people in the restaurant. Most customers are natives: young couples, old couples, small families, and a loner in the corner—I used to be that guy. Luckily, there's no one I recognize from school. "Here you are." The waitress presents our stall with a flourish. I feel sorry for the loner next to us. I've somehow become one of _those_ people, the guy who walks into a restaurant with a girl by his side, the envy of all loners. Funny enough, I wish I was him right now. It dawns on me as we're being seated that I'm on a date with a girl. Let that sink in for a moment. Me, on a date with a girl. Somewhere out there, a pig has finally acquired its wings. The waitress hands us the menu. "Can I get you two drinks?"

"I'd like a lemonade," Rikku says.

The waitress turns to me. "And for you?"

"Just water."

"I'll be back with your drinks soon. In the mean time, you can look through the menu and find something to order."

"Thanks!"

I give a slight nod and look over the menu. I don't plan on ordering anything, but I'll have to keep up appearances—anything to keep myself from looking across the table. As far as I'm concerned, I'm here on my own and a strange girl just happens to be sitting on the other side.

"You can pull your hood down now," she says in amusement. I pull it down. I should be safe...for now. "So you've been unnaturally quiet lately. Cat got your tongue?" Easy for her to say; I'm cornered. Taking a seat by the stall limits my exit options. I only have one way out. I stay quiet, but her hand suddenly appears before me and takes my menu away. I almost jump from the shock.

"What is it?" I ask, turning away to the side. My eyes fall on ketchup bottles and salt and pepper shakers.

"What are you gonna get?"

"Nothing. I'm not hungry."

"That's not good." Her voice is heavy with disappointment. "You should order something or it'll be a waste."

"You're the one who wanted to eat."

"Killjoy." For once, she says something I'm used to. "Just pick something on the menu. I'll even pay for you."

I shake my head. "Thanks but no thanks. I'm fine."

"Are you really?"

I glance up, puzzled by her tone. She gives me a dead stare, as if she'd just been found guilty. It's unsettling.

"Here are your drinks." The waitress places our glasses on the table. She pulls out a pad from her apron. "Are you guys ready to order? Just to let you know, today, we're having a special on the paopu plate."

"I'll get that," Rikku answers immediately.

"Great!" She scribbles it on her pad. "And for you?"

"I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Alright, one paopu plate and that's it? I'll be back as soon as your order finishes." She leaves us alone.

"You're kind of stupid, aren't you?" Rikku says suddenly. Did she really just ask me that?

"What?" I look up again and she shoots me a haughty smirk.

"It seems like you don't really know anything." She's got a class-A sneer on her face. Is she finally showing her true colors?

"And what's that supposed to mean?" My eyes fall back to my lap.

"Everybody knows you don't let the girl eat alone on a date."

I cough unconvincingly. "I wasn't aware we were on one."

"Are you also not aware that you're a jerk too?"

I snort. "That was weak, even for you. What is this really about? I doubt you pulled me out here just make fun of me."

"I didn't. I took you here because…" She's not going to finish unless I prompt her. How tiresome.

"Because what?"

"So that you can get a taste of your own medicine." It's a rather anti-climactic answer, and it didn't even make sense. I expected something more grandiose and clever, not confusing claptrap.

"I don't get it," I state plainly.

"Am I on your lap or something? Why don't you look at me when you talk? Don't you know that's rude?" Be rude or throw up? The choice ain't no choice at all. I keep my head down. "I don't get you. Why are you so_frustrating_?"

A chuckle escapes my lips. I find it hard to answer because I don't know it myself. I look up again, but this time, I keep my eyes on her. She returns my gaze with unwavering conviction. Her face is odd. It's painted with worry, but why would she be worrying about me? I try to say something witty, but the words are lodged in my throat. Of all the times to choke, it has to be now?

"How long have we known each other?" Is this a trick question? Her face is plenty serious though.

"Since the accident."

"No…before that even. You were friends with Brother, remember? You visited my house a couple times." Okay, so what? Why this sudden trip down memory lane? "I remember everything, Sora. How you acted before the accident, after it, and middle school." My heart leaps like the moment before the roller coaster drops. I'm getting a bad feeling about this. "I thought you disappeared when we started high school, but you've been here this entire time. Meeting you at the beach…I thought I was pretty lucky."

Part of me is curious to see where this rambling will lead, but another part wants to shut it down. I have to tread lightly. "Hardly something I'd call lucky."

She smiles. "I was always jealous of you." That wins the award for most surprising statement of the year. "Even though the kids made fun of you for the accident, you never let it faze you. It looked like you didn't care at all."

"But _you_ did."

"Of course, that's normal. Why wouldn't I be worried about what others thought of me? But you played it cool. Nothing ever affected you." She clenches her jaw. "It pissed me off. Why did I to feel embarrassed when you didn't feel anything at all? It wasn't fair. No matter how hard I watched you, you never showed a single weakness." Good, let's keep it that way.

"It's because I don't have any."

She smirks. "Then in middle school, you turned into a jerk. Everybody avoided you like the plague and you still didn't care. I always wondered why you did a total 180 in personality. You seemed so shy before, but then you turned into an asshole. The funny thing? I was still jealous. How did you change so much in so little time? And why was I still stuck dealing with a stupid nickname that never left me?" She expects me to say something. I thought it was a rhetorical question.

"I don't know."

She opens her mouth in a wicked grin. "I hated you, you know that? I really did. Just thinking about how you used to be—it's a wonder I didn't kill you back then." She really means it. If she wanted to kill me that bad, all she had to do was hug me—not that I'll tell her that. I don't get it. What's the point of this sob story? Is she fishing for sympathy?

"A little dramatic and drawn out, don't you think?"

She shrugs it off as if my answer was just another drop of water in the rain. "When I no longer saw you in school last year, I thought you finally moved someplace else. That's when I realized something important: no matter how cool you were, no matter how much you changed, you were always alone. I was the only one who remembered that you even existed. It was as if you were never there."

My eyes narrow involuntarily. Is this pity? I don't need it. I'm a loner by choice. "I don't need your sympathy."

She casually rests her cheek against her palm. "That's what I thought too, but Yuna and Paine showed me otherwise. If it wasn't for them, then I think I'd still be like you, a little kid pretending to be an adult."

"That's rich, coming from you." She's the most immature person I know. Where does she get off scolding me like this?

"You're still a growing boy after all," she says cheekily. "Baby steps, right?"

"Tch." I'm baffled and speechless. Who is this impostor and why is she pretending to know everything?

"I don't know what your problem is, but you still think only about yourself. When will you see that other people are just like you? The others can't see it, but I know you as clear as day."

Something inside me snaps. I'm not going to sit here and let this girl spout bullshit uncontested. She doesn't know a goddamned thing about me. "Fine. Then you've got me. I'm still scraping the bottom of Maslow's pyramid, but so what? You don't know the things I have to deal with. You have no place to talk like you know everything."

She giggles. I'm totally gonna slap her if she doesn't cut it out. "It doesn't feel good, does it? That's why…"

What nonsensical piece of gibberish will she utter next?

"I want to be your friend."

"_What_?"

"You try hard to keep people at arms length, but that's a sad way of living." She grabs my hand and squeezes it gently. I'm too shocked to feel anything. "Will you let me be your friend, Sora?"

Are you kidding me? This is preposterous, ridiculous on a level unheard of. Everything is completely upside down, sideways, and inside out. My head is light and my body is drained. It's like my soul is leaking out, but a tenuous grasp prevents it from escaping completely. She'd struck a chord I didn't know existed, and it set off an avalanche of emotions. I've heard this before, somewhere, buried deep in my memory, was that earnest request for friendship, and it felt like salvation back then, and it feels like hope now—a false hope, but a hope nonetheless.

Friends? Come on! This year, I've got nothing _but_ friends! But that's not entirely true, is it? Just because Clever Hans the horse gave the right answers doesn't mean he knows how to do math. Have I been parading around the word "friend" like a convenience?

"When I saw you with Roxas, I was really surprised. It was the first time I saw you with someone. Even with the all rumors about you and Kairi, I can see that you haven't changed at all."

_Change_. It's probably the most overrated word in existence. Everybody wants to do it, some do, but some can't. In the end, nothing really changes_,_ does it?

I look at her, really look at her this time, and finally see _her_, not the collection of facial features attached to the body known as Rikku, but _Rikku _herself.

I see _Rikku_.

"Here's your paopu plate," the waitress says, cutting in.

"Oh, thanks!" Rikku lets go of my hand and takes her plate.

Her warmth lingers on my fingers. Wait—I take stock of my body condition. I feel…

Fine?

"Enjoy your meal," the waitress says before leaving.

Rikku takes a fork and we lock stares. "So, what do you think?"

"Huh?" I let out dumbly.

"You know, about being friends?"

"Oh, that... Sure?"

"Great!" She digs in.

My hands are numb. I grip my glass and let the freezing moisture return sensation to my fingers. I take a heavy swig and close my eyes, ice-cold water sliding down my throat. I open my eyes and give myself one last test: I look at her face.

My body doesn't feel sick.

Holy fu—


	25. Opening Pandora's Box

**Chapter 25: Opening Pandora's Box**

When something's too good to be true, it usually is.

I flew too close to the sun and got burned. My wings melted and I fell back into a sea of vomit.

Five minutes. I only got a glimpse of paradise for five minutes before reality snatched me back into its cruel clutches. I thought I had defeated the sickness, but I was wrong. It was lying in wait until I let my guard down, and when I did, it hit me all at once, and I'm sent reeling towards the restroom.

As I cough up my lunch from school, I wonder if that magical moment ever happened. It was too fleeting, like a sidewalk painting illusion. I took one step forward and the image completely fell apart.

No, it happened, I'm sure it did. I somehow achieved a level of clarity in that one shining moment that allowed me to transcend my limits. It's like the one moment of consciousness you recall from an alcohol-induced blackout. I don't remember what happened before and after, but I sure as hell remember sitting there, perfectly fine, marveling at how amazing "normal" can be.

A delayed reaction—it's something new, a change in my normal pattern of sickness. It may seem like a step back for me, but it's proof that I'm moving forward. Can I replicate it? Or is it a once in a millennia phenomenon, the one time the planets align and a miracle occurs? I rinse out my mouth using the sink and stumble out of the restroom in a daze, and accidentally bump into a guy on the way out. I mumble a quick apology.

The illusive interior of the Secret Place greets me again, and it takes me a second for my eyes to adjust. Haze, darkness, and neon lights continue to swirl while the loud music and low hum of chatter gnaw at my thoughts, which come and go sporadically, constantly interrupted by this dissonant soundscape. I spot Rikku where I left her. She looks lonely sitting there, flanked by empty stalls, with a hand folded beneath her chin. She swirls lemonade with a straw, eyes fixed on the vortex in her glass. The odds of being struck by lightning are very low, but once you're struck, the chances you'll be struck again are elevated. Why is that? Because if you were struck once, you were probably doing something dumb like holding a lightning rod in the middle of a storm. Can dumb luck strike twice? I cross my fingers as I approach the table.

"You were in quite a rush," she says, commenting on my quick exit earlier.

"It was probably the fish from school. Sea food really sneaks up on me. I can never tell until it's too late." I lower myself down gingerly and gauge my reaction to her. Damn it, the storm has passed. That special feeling has dissipated and everything's back to normal. Her pretty face throws my tender stomach into minor turmoil.

"So…now that we're friends, you mind telling me what your problem is?" she asks.

I recoil slightly. I still haven't absorbed the events of the last half hour. She's jumping ahead of herself. "Just because we're friends doesn't mean you get to be nosy."

"Of course it does. I get to be as nosy as I want because we're friends now." I admit, I haven't had a real friend in years, but I'm sure she's misappropriating the term.

"I think there's more to being friends than just that."

She stares at me right in the eyes, forcing me to avert my gaze. My stomach cramps.

"And what would you know about that? You can't even look me in the eye." The words are harsh, a far cry from her earnest plea for friendship earlier.

"You're really confusing, you know that?" I spill. I've been holding it in for awhile, but she hasn't been making much sense since we entered this place. Are there pipes leaking mad gas into the restaurant? She used to be so predictable, but she's thrown me into a hurricane, leaving me whipped and disorientated. The last hour has been a blur to me. "Do you like me or do you hate me? Make up your mind already."

"What about you? After two years of acting like a jerk, you show up at the beach and start seducing all my friends, not to mention, you switch between insulting and flirting with me in class. Why don't you make up _your_mind?" So she noticed. I guess I wasn't as smooth as I thought.

"Because that's—" Because what? I'm not too sure myself. When I get nervous, I just do what makes sense at the time. I work off the cues I'm given, and she gave me some pretty funky cues. "It's because you were acting all bubbly and giggly. How else am I supposed to react to that?"

Our eyes widen in shared revelation. We don't say anything as we reflect on our contradictory behaviors. We used to treat each other with reciprocal disdain, but that changed when we met at the beach. That day was the start of everything.

"We haven't really been talking to each other, have we?" she muses out loud.

I stare dumbly as she ponders over her declaration. When I think back on our conversations, I notice the severe gaps in our communication. Why didn't I realize it sooner? Rikku was never the bubbly type. I recall my times with Brother and remember how she used to act. She was always the shy type. She hid whenever I came over to visit, and never made a sound until I left.

After the incident, things changed for her. I didn't pay it much mind since I was busy battling my own problems, but she sulked as her nickname "Pukku" branded her as damaged goods. Why then, was I so taken by her newfound sparkly demeanor? It almost rendered her past as a vindictive and contemptible bitch into a footnote.

I look at her again and her face is taut in concentration. She appears rather grim as she contemplates the nature of our relationship. This is the real Rikku. But why is she finally showing her true colors now? Think, Sora, think. What's the variable—what's the difference?

_"You girls are gullwings. You're not numbers on a scale. You're beautiful feathers lifting each other to higher heights. Gullwings."_

It's her friends.

At the beach, she was with Yuna and Paine, and in class, Paine was there too. And without them, she's this incoherent mess in front of me. Maybe that's why her rambling was so effective. Her painful mixture of honesty, anger, and confusion resembled me far too much. I didn't want to be reminded of my weaknesses.

That's why she wants to be friends. She's been watching me all this time, thinking that I've been ahead of her, but it turns out to be the opposite. She has friends and I have nothing. I don't even know what the word "friend" means.

I overestimated my powers of observation. How much of her do I really know? It's the same with Naminé and it's the same with Rikku now. I thought I knew her, but I don't. I haven't a damned clue. All I have are my assumptions and deductions. People are finally started to figure themselves out in this turbulent time of our youth. How can I hope to solve others when I don't even know myself? I still have a long way to go. I laugh at my naivety.

"What's so funny?" she asks, annoyed. "I'm being serious here."

"How long have you been stalking me?"

She bristles at the accusation. "I haven't been stalking you. It's just—you made my life hell, okay? I just wanted to see what karma would bring you. It didn't seem fair that I had to suffer while you could just coast through life. Tell me something, Sora, is Roxas your friend?"

"Please don't make such horrible jokes," I plead.

"I thought so…" she says quietly, shuffling awkwardly in her seat. It seems she's overplayed her hand, leaving her with nothing to work with. We must've been quite a pair, two fools talking to the air in front of them, but not to each other. This is the closest I've ever been to another person. Everybody isn't as simple as I thought.

"I wish you were an airhead."

"That'd make things easier for you, wouldn't it? If I'm gonna be honest, I wish I was an airhead too." She grins at my confused face. "It's easier to just…be happy."

I understand. I'm willing to trade my intelligence for blissful ignorance. It's the curse of enlightenment. Pain and suffering does not equate to depth. People are fully capable of being engaging without a prerequisite sob story to accompany their past. Pain and suffering only equates to pain and suffering, and the world is better without it.

"When I'm with Yuna and Paine, I can forget about my past. I remember the things they've done for me and I can't help myself from smiling. That's why, when I'm with them, I'm a better person." It's true that I act differently around other people, but I don't think I've met anybody who has made me "better"— whatever that means.

"Are you saying you can't act that way around me?" I tease.

"Let me try…" She fakes a cough and clears her throat. Her eyes go wide and she begins bouncing on her seat. "Heya, Sowa!"

I struggle to keep my laughter in. "I wanted bubbly, not baby," I squeeze out amidst my laughing fit.

She puffs her cheeks in indignation. "I can't force it, alright? You don't give me much reason to act cute."

"Then why act like it in the first place?" It's one thing to act happier around your friends, but it's another to adopt an entirely new persona.

"It's practice for the Gullwings. Yuna's the nice girl, I'm the bubbly one, and Paine's the tough one. You can't survive on talent alone, you need personality." I get the feeling this lesson is applicable to Naminé as well.

I lean back, stretch out my neck, and feel the tension melt away. I finally did it. I got myself my first girl friend. Naminé only half-counts since she's covered in ninja garb, but not only is Rikku my first girl friend, but I got a clue to curing my sickness. In this mess of a date lies the answer to my condition. I don't know what it is, but something tells me that as long as I stick with Rikku, I'll find it soon enough.

"So…about my question earlier…" she brings up again.

"You mean about my problem?"

She nods. "Is there something bothering you, or am I just imagining things? I'm sure you're not acting like a jerk because you want to."

"What's wrong with a jerk being a jerk? There's doesn't have to be a reason for everything," I posit.

She rolls her eyes. "Just tell me already." I thought I hid my problem well, but I guess she's watched me long enough to figure out that there's something wrong with me.

Should I tell her? I grip my shorts tightly as I mull over the decision. This is not something I take lightly. Nobody, not even my parents, knows about my condition. They have their suspicions but nothing concrete. I had resolved to solve this problem on my own, but why? Why did I decide to shoulder the responsibility myself? A burden is easier to carry when it's spread between more than one person, right?

Because I'm afraid.

Not of dying, not of getting sick, but afraid of something else. I hold the same fear that grips Riku. Fear of rejection. I've unconsciously deprived myself of friendships because I can't regret losing what I never had.

I'm alone because I'm afraid of being abandoned. But what's the difference? In the end, I'm still alone, by myself, surrounded by people who don't know any better—close, but forever distant. It's easy to get caught up in the condition. All I have to worry about is staying healthy. I honed in on that one goal and forgot everything else.

Maybe that's why I insist on doing all this crap for Roxas. Not because it's central to my health, but because I wanted to be a little less lonely.

I want to believe. I truly do. But I've been singed by small fires before. "Sickboy" isn't the worst thing I've encountered, but it's a small taste of the abuse I may suffer if my secret gets out.

Can I trust Rikku?

Her suffering at my hands (or mouth) is the only thing that makes me feel comfortable about telling her my secret. I got away unscathed from the incident, but she bore the full brunt and endured cruel insults during her formative years when we're most impressionable. She probably deserves an explanation from me more than anyone else I know.

Rikku knows a lot more about me than she lets on, but she has good reason to know. She's been keeping an eye on me all this time because of her grievances. Perhaps its inevitable that she'll find out at some point. With pressure coming in from multiple angles, the right strategy may be to gather allies instead of alienating others. If she's gonna find out, then she may as well find out on my terms. I'm betting on Rikku's pain to prevent her from spilling my secret. To subject others to her own suffering would mean a cruelty unfitting for someone of her stature. Then again, how much of her do I really know?

It's clear I can't continue with the status quo. The situation has changed dramatically since this week started. The tighter the squeeze, the more powerful the pop off. Riku's got his eyes on me because of the bet, Laguna wants me to join the cast of _Destiny High Times,_ Naminé baffles me to no end, Kairi is digging into my past too deeply, Roxas is a blabbermouth of epic proportions, and Xion seems hellbent on foiling me. When I consider the candidates for confession, Rikku stands out as the safest bet. It's funny that the person I know best is the girl who hates me the most.

She's a litmus test. I've been keeping my secrets too tightly. If I tell her, my own worst enemy, and she doesn't reveal it to anyone, then my trust is vindicated. But if she spills it all over school, then my years of keeping my mouth shut are vindicated.

This is not a decision I take lightly, but it's a decision that will happen sooner or later. Considering how various forces are ganging up on me, this might be my best chance for a controlled information leak. I suck in the air harshly, blow it out between my teeth, and lock gazes with her.

"I'm love sick."

"Huh?" She didn't expect that answer. She takes a few moments to rearrange my words into a more coherent statement. "You like someone?"

I grin wryly. "Not exactly. I have a condition. If I get too close to girls, I get sick and throw up."

She blinks. "You throw up when you get close to girls?" she repeats dully. It must sound like a joke to her—but she's not wrong. It's the dumbest joke the universe ever sprang on me, and it's been laughing at me ever since.

"It's an extreme form of anxiety disorder. My body experiences intense nausea, soreness, and cramps in the presence of girls. It's like when you get nervous and your palms get sweaty, except for me, I just feel like dying."

"Then…" She trails off, uncertain of where to go.

"That trip to the bathroom earlier? I was puking in the restroom."

"Wait, wait, wait! Are you serious? That can't be right!"

"Why did you think I threw up on you in the closet?"

"Then the reason you acted like a jerk this entire time was—"

"So that you, and every other girl, would stay away from me."

I never thought that this day would come, but I can't think of a better place than _The Secret Place_ to confess it. Rikku was the first girl I met since this whole thing started. Who would've thought that she was the first one I'd tell?

People naturally want to bare themselves to the world. There's catharsis in confession. Keeping secrets tears us up inside, so why do we stay silent? I've said my piece, and although a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, another one has replaced it. What will Rikku do now that she knows my secret?

Instead of amusement, disgust, or understanding, I see skepticism. "Have you seen a doctor about this?"

I shake my head. "You're the first one who knows. I've been trying to solve this problem for pretty much my entire life."

"How long have you suffered from it?" she probes. She still doesn't believe me. She thinks I'm lying.

"Since kindergarten," I reply honestly.

"Wow…this is uh…a lot to take in."

Disbelief. I should've anticipated that. It just goes to show how much I've gotten used to my love sickness. It's my reality, but to others, it's a preposterous idea. "You don't believe me."

"I do, it's just—"

"Waitress! Can I get a to-go bag?" I shout out.

The waitress nods at me and disappears into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Rikku asks warily.

"A demonstration," I answer. If she's not got believe me on my word, then I'm gonna force her to believe on my vomit.

"What are you—"

"You don't believe me, so I'm gonna provide proof."

"Are you going to make yourself throw up on purpose?" she cries incredulously.

I don't answer and wait for the waitress to return. She finally emerges from the kitchen doorway and comes to the table with my requested item. "Here you go."

I grab the bag and thank her. After she leaves, I stand up and get close to Rikku.

"Sora?"

I take a deep breath and rest my hand on hers.

We both stare at our hands, mine lying on top of hers. Her face is simultaneously baffled and embarrassed at my action, but her reaction is nothing compared to mine.

I hunch over immediately and barf into the bag. "**Uuuaarrrggghghh!**"

She recoils in horror at my sudden outburst and backs away several feet. She must still be suffering from the trauma. I normally don't go out of the way to throw up, but when someone doesn't believe me, it's my job to respond with irrefutable proof.

I lift my head up and wipe my mouth. The entire restaurant stares at me.

"Sir? Are you alright?" the waitress, mortified, asks.

"Yes. Can you take care of this for me?" She hesitantly takes my bag of vomit and jogs away. It's mostly spit and stomach liquid. I already threw up most of the substantial stuff in the restroom. I take my seat nonchalantly and glance at the shocked Rikku. "Believe me now?"

"Yeah—just don't do that ever again!" she screams.

"If you don't want it to happen, then don't touch me," I advise.

She recalls the moment she grabbed my hand when she asked for my friendship. "I'm sorry—I didn't know." She takes a few deep breaths and shakes her head. "Impossible…that's gotta be a joke, right?"

I look at her expectantly. I don't realize that my heart's beating at a thousands mile an hour. Why am I so nervous? Am I expecting rejection? "Do you believe me now?"

"I never knew…it's kind of funny when you think about it, but kind of sad at the same time. Uh, should I really be here with you?" she asks worriedly.

"I feel slightly anxious, but as long as you don't touch me, I'm fine."

She looks at her hand in wonder. "If I touch you, you'll throw up?"

"Yes, and try not to test it. I've already thrown up twice today."

"Ah…it's just so hard to believe. So then, with this condition of yours, towards girls, you feel…?" she stutters out.

"I'm not gay, if that's what you're getting at."

"I wasn't getting at that at all, I was just curious as to your thoughts on girls. I mean, if you say girls make you sick, that makes me wonder—"

"On the contrary, I am very much attracted to girls. It's just a problem for me since I get sick when I'm close to them. I've been trying to cure my condition."

"I knew that," she excuses quickly. She seems uncomfortable with the knowledge that she is capable of reducing me to a puking mess. I feel the same way. No one girl should have that much power over me.

"Another thing about my condition is that the prettier the girl, the sicker I get. You've made me blow some pretty huge chunks," I reveal, adding to her powers over me.

"It must've been…tough for you." Her attempts at consolation are poor. She's better off not trying.

"Imagine if boys made you barf," I suppose.

"Some kinda do," she jokes.

I ignore it and continue with my hypothetical problem. "And imagine that the hottest guys made you puke the worse. Think about all your friends talking about boys 24/7. It's like you can't escape and you end up feeling sick the entire day. And as long as there are boys around, you will feel sick for the rest of your life. You'll always be keeping an eye on the trash cans and bathrooms because you'll never know when the feeling will hit you. You get afraid of eating because you know it won't stay in your stomach and you hole yourself up in your room because that's the only place that doesn't make you sick. Every day going to school is like tempting fate, a game against the odds, and it's a coin flip whether or not you're end up on your knees pouring your guts out in the bushes. That's the situation I'm in. The world is just begging for me to throw up."

She is left breathless from my speech. I may have gone overboard, but I was seized by memories of past experiences. She needs to understand my pain. "It sounds like…a nightmare."

"Yeah, there's a lot of other strings attached and… I think I've said enough." She doesn't need to know about the particulars that I've figured out through my experiments like the range of my sickness or that Kairi is the most grievous offender of my condition.

"I'm sorry. I mean, I tried forcing it out of you. You didn't have to tell me, but you did. Yuna and Paine never knew about my nickname until you brought it up." She's trying to connect the dots between us using her own experiences.

"Was it really that bad? _Pukku_?"

"It sounds stupid to you now, but kids are pretty cruel. The worst part is that they're creative about it too. It wasn't just Pukku. There was vomit vixen, barf babe, and retching Rikku. They'd say mean things about how I was born, what my mom did when I was in her womb, how I cleaned myself, and…"

"I get the picture." She didn't need to recount the sordid details of her ordeal.

"The older I got, the worse the insults. They say it's just words but…they still hurt, worse than physical pain even. It didn't matter how much I argued. They just kept on teasing me. Nobody wants to be friends with the 'dirty' girl. Everybody stayed away from me. I always wondered, 'why me?' And the answer was you. If you never threw up on me at that time, at that place, in front of everybody, I wouldn't have to become everybody's joke for the next few years." She's stewing in unpleasant thoughts.

"Isn't it over now?"

She sighs. "I wish… It's hard to forget. Did you ever hate me, Sora?"

"Why would I? I just wanted you to leave me alone."

She laughs darkly. "I feel pathetic. For the last few years, I've hated you for something you had no control over."

"Forget about it. We're friends now. And if anybody ever makes fun of you about it again, then I'll just throw up on them. How does that sound?"

"Disgusting."

We laugh together for the first time, a true, genuine exchange of mirth.

"I'm not affecting you right now, am I?"

"You're fine. Something unexpected popped up, and it's helping me with my sickness. It's been getting better, but it's tough at the same time."

We settle into a silence. A lot of things have been said, but not fully processed by either party. It's the first time I've said so much about myself. I feel tension in my body that has nothing to do with Rikku. I haven't felt this kind of nervousness in a long time. I'm not talking to a book or a machine. She's not a system that responds with predictable lines, a series of branches and variables modified to provide reactions to multiple stimuli. There is no substitute for human interaction. It's like everything I read has gone out the window.

This is what it's like to talk to another person.

"Here's the check," the waitress says quietly, placing the bill on our table.

"Thanks," Rikku answers. She digs into her purse and takes out some munny. She lays it on the receipt and turns to me. "Do you still want that guitar?"

It's about time we got down to business. "Yeah, I've been wondering about that for awhile. Where are we going to get it?"

She smiles and stands up. "Just follow me."

Instead of heading towards the exit, she leads me towards the kitchen double doors.

"Uh…are you sure we're going to the right place?"

She shoots me a smile over her shoulder.

"Smiles make me sick too," I warn.

"Oh, oops. I totally forgot." I don't believe her.

We walk through the doors and avoid servers coming in and out. It's a clean kitchen, with a lot of white and silver appliances. We go around counters and sinks until we reach a cook. He's a gruff man with pale blond hair and a tough demeanor. Dark stubble covers his chin. A dirty apron is wrapped around his waist and he sports an impressive physique. He must've flipped quite a few burgers in his time.

"Highwind!" Rikku yelps, surprising the poor man.

"Flippin' son of a gun, whaddya yellin' for, girl?" he shouts. His voice is loud, gritty, and sloppy. He glances at us and pauses. "Wait, that you, Rikku?"

"Hiya!" she greets happily.

"Well, I'll be, you here for the guitar?" He turns down the heat on the grill and eyes me. "This lil' pipsqueak be the one playing it?"

"Something like that," I answer.

"Ha! A rookie, eh? Your fingers give you away. Nothin' but clean baby hands," he observes. I look at his hands and notice that they're covered in bandages and calluses. "Name's Cid Highwind, best short cook on the islands. What's ya name rookie?"

"Sora Hikari."

"Nice to meetcha, I'd shake your hand, but I can't be contaminatin' the food." I'm sure his hand is dirtier than mine. "Ya can find it in my locker," he tells Rikku.

Rikku hops over to the locker with a nameplate that says "Highwind." She opens it and inside is a guitar case. She takes it out and opens it, revealing a beat up but spiffy classic guitar. The wood has some wear and tear but it sparkles brightly.

"Dang girl's a beaut, served me well after these long years," Highwind says, admiring the instrument.

"Then why are you giving it away?" I ask. I'm not trying to spit on his charity, but I want to know if there's anything wrong with it. It could be infested with termites for all I know.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with it if that's whatcha thinkin'. It's just that I got a better guitar, and I ain't be needin' this one much except for sentimentality. It's better off in yer hands. Besides, this kind lil' girl here asked on your behalf. How can I say no to that?"

"Thanks a lot, Highwind," she replies thankfully. Rikku holds out the guitar for me to take. She's very mindful of her touch. I grab it cleanly. "Highwind here knows my dad."

"That's right; we used to play in a band. We were called _The Cids_!"

"The Cids?" I repeat incredulously. The name sounds terrible.

Rikku giggles. "My dad's name is Cid, and Highwind here is also a Cid, and you remember our principal from Destiny Elementary?"

"Principal Cid? Wait, you're telling me all three of them are in a band?"

"Those were the good ol' days, we rocked it back then. Now, we just jam on our days off. Bet'cha can't tell unless we was all together. A cook, a ship captain, and a school principal." I know the cook and the principal, but who's the other one?

"Ship captain?"

"My dad's captain of the Fahrenheit ferry. It's actually where our concert's gonna be held," Rikku explains.

"Family connections, huh?" I comment.

"Alright, now that we got what we need, we're out of here," Rikku says. "Thanks a lot, Highwind!"

"You should come by more often!" Highwind yells. He turns the dial and the fire springs to life. The meat begins to sizzle again. It smells good enough to tickle my vacated stomach.

"Then make your food cheaper!" she shouts back. "Come on, let's go."

We leave through the kitchen exit and find ourselves in a back alley.

"Thanks, Rikku. I appreciate it. And not just for the guitar either," I say gratefully.

"What are friends for?"

"I wouldn't know. You're my first one," I joke. I sling the guitar over my shoulder and shove a hand into my pocket. My fingers touch something solid. That's right, I've been holding on this for awhile, waiting for the perfect opportunity. I think this is finally the time to use it. "Rikku, do you think you can do me a favor?"

"Already cashing in on your friendship perks?"

"We're friends, so it's okay."

She shakes her head. "I knew I shouldn't have said that. Fine, what is it?"

What's the best way I could put this? "I'm asking you to, at least temporarily, make another girl jealous."

She stiffens at my request. "Are you talking about Kairi? What's going between you and her?"

"It has nothing to do with Kairi, and nothing's going on between me and her, except maybe…a cold war, but forget about that for a moment." I take out the necklace that I borrowed from Hayner. You guys thought I forgot about it, huh? "I want you to wear this tomorrow. During nutrition break, I want you to find me and say hi to a boy that should be with me, his name is Hayner."

She grabs the necklace and dangles it before her eyes. It's a simple string necklace with an "x" pendant. It doesn't hold much value, but its worth in sentimentality is probably equal to the guitar I just received. "Can I ask why?" she says, looking at me with suspicion.

"Like I said, it's to make a girl jealous. I'm trying to bring a couple together, but they're the type to sit on their thumbs until somebody gives them a hard shove. I'll take responsibility for any fallout."

It's not the ideal plan, but it's the most effective and efficient one. I can spend days trying to coax Hayner and Olette into confessing to each other, but I'd rather force the issue. If you persist in the same patterns of behavior by going to the same places, talking to the same people, and doing the same things, you'll never break out of the rut. The pattern must be disrupted for change to occur, and what better catalyst for change is there than conflict?

If their friendship falls apart because of this, then they were never meant to be in the first place. I know that pre-rationalization for possible failure doesn't necessarily justify the means, but screw it. Just because I'm a love doctor doesn't mean I have to be gentle about it. I hope a clear-cut case of jealousy can spark something between them.

"I don't know what your plan is, but if it blows up in your face?"

"Then it'll only be my face," I assure.

"Okay then, but you're gonna owe me."

"I'm good for it." That should wrap things up for today. There's nothing I want to do more than go home and think things over. Too much has happened, and I'm afraid I might've showed too much of my hand. Somewhere in this messy of exchange is a kernel of truth that contains the answer I'm looking for. I just have to find it. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Before you go, let's exchange numbers," she suggests.

"Phone numbers? You're not gonna spam my inbox are you?"

She laughs. "What else am I'm gonna do? Now tell me."

I roll my eyes and rattle off my digits.

She dials and my phone rings. "Great!"

"Alright Rikku, I'll see you later."

"Bye, Sora. And uh…I'm glad we became friends." It was a sincere declaration.

I smile gently. "Yeah. Me too."

We part ways and I return home.

I'm exhausted, and it won't get any better for me. Tomorrow, I got a date with Naminé and I wonder how that will turn out. I enter my house and sit down on the stairs. I set my instrument next to me.

My mom pokes her in from the kitchen and whistles. "Welcome back. I didn't know you play the guitar."

"I don't. It's for Roxas."

"Oh, that's nice," she comments. "Dinner should be ready in a couple hours." She ducks back into the kitchen.

"Hey mom," I call out quickly.

Her head pops out again. "Yes, dear?"

"During kindergarten, did I ever go to the hospital?"

"The hospital? You were quite sick as a child," she says evenly.

"Anything that would put me out of commission for more than a week?" I specify.

"Not that I can recall," she says with finality. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, then that's fine." I lug the instrument upstairs and think back on my mom's answer.

She's lying. I'll just figure it out later. As a family, we're pretty damn good at keeping secrets. I'll probably have better luck getting answers out of Ms. Estheim, my kindergarten teacher. I'll have to pay a visit to Destiny Elementary soon, and Friday seems like my best bet.

I walk into my room and set the guitar down. I take out my wallet, my keys, and—oh yeah, I almost forgot, that photo of Kairi that Pence gave me. I slap it facedown on my desk. I can't be caught with this at school.

I go over to my bed and collapse. There's definitely a lot to think about, but the thought of thinking about it makes me think that I'm thinking too much. Today, I did something I've never done before:

I told another person my secret.

The weight of my decision is heavy, and it presses on me, crushing my face against the soft mattress. It's confessor's remorse. The possibility that I made a mistake looms over my head like a guillotine. I made the choice to reveal my secret out of irrationality. I'm smarter than this! Somehow, I was suckered into it.

Why did I say so much? If it was to gain compliance and grease the wheels of our "friendship," I could have easily made something up that would fit the bill, but instead, I told her the truth. Was I so desperate that I latched on to the first good opportunity to expose myself? The only reason I can think of is blind faith. This better not be the day I opened Pandora's Box. I can only take so much chaos in one week.

Get a grip! I can lie down here and ponder the ramifications of my decision or concentrate on tomorrow. There's still work to be done. I push myself up, go to my laptop, and jump on Kupopo to see if there's still any heat on me.

I type my name in the search box and there's significantly less results. It seems like my popularity has run its course. That's a relief. Interestingly enough, it's because Kairi called it off. Why the change of heart? I go over to my window, pull the drapes aside, and peek across the way. Her bedroom curtains are still closed.

Golden eyes pop up behind the glass. "Hey, Tabby," I greet, sliding the widow aside to let the cat in. It hops in, wanders around the ground, and looks at me expectantly. I open a drawer and take out a treat. "Here you go." It mewls appreciatively and I pet its head.

I return to my laptop and look up Selphie's Kupopo profile. I have to put the icing on the cake for my plan with Hayner and Olette. Putting a necklace on another girl isn't going to do much by itself. If Kairi's taught me anything, it's that rumors have power.

Alright then…I click on Selphie's username. I click on an empty box and type in:

_I think Rikku and Hayner have something going on between them._

Press enter to Kupo.

This will either be very bad or very good.

Here's hoping it doesn't blow up in my face.


	26. Return to Form

**Chapter 26: Return to Form**

Process matters.

As much as I would like to wake up with my condition cured overnight, I have to be realistic. Change is a gradual thing, and results arrive not from magical thinking, but from down and dirty process. It requires time, patience, and all the things that people generally try to avoid—inconveniences such as effort, thinking, and planning. Once I lay it all out, I have to stick with the plan as much as possible, because the moment I try to cut corners is the moment I get burned, and I don't like to get burned.

_I think Rikku and Hayner have something going on between them._

It's an innocuous suggestion at first glance, but one with grave implications. I have to be careful about this. One drop of water can disturb the whole pond. If I carelessly drop this into the Destiny High gossip network, it might be the first thing on everybody's lips the next morning, and that's not what I want. The difference between posting this at night and day is—well, night and day. I can't control information completely, but if I post this in the middle of the night, when most students are asleep, propagation will be slow—not to mention, Selphie's safeguards against junk rumors will be quick to react.

Selphie practices strict quality control. Just because she's gossip queen doesn't mean everything sticks. She has a reputation to uphold. Accuracy is a prized and valuable commodity, and it's something that she has in spades. She holds a startling 70% accuracy rate, a hard-earned number achieved through tight screening procedure. She didn't claw her way to the top by throwing out the juiciest rumors; she got there by being right.

Once I submit my post on Selphie's Kupo page, it will last for probably six minutes before it'll get trashed. A random Kupo by some generic username isn't going to last long, but six minutes is enough for my plan.

The Destiny High rumor mill works like a pyramid, and at the very top is Selphie. In the middle are rumormongers who specialize in specific gossip. They're divided into categories like grade, from freshmen to seniors; by party involved, like teacher or student; by nature of the act, either infidelity or violence; and among others. At the bottom is the student population that eats up everything that trickles down from above. While Selphie has a stranglehold on the mass market for general rumors, the niches are served by middlemen.

Gossip is a lucrative enterprise, and there will always be people who want a slice of that pie. Those who spread rumors gain notoriety and credit, and with credit is the ability to make life difficult for others, and that translates into power. The market didn't come on its own until _Destiny High Times_ started filming here. The producers noticed how ratings increased when the cast had to wrangle with rumors, so they sponsored a new era of hearsay and speculation.

Destiny Islands thrives on rumors. It's only natural that our school, a mirror of our society, has a similar system in place. I'd be an idiot not to take advantage of it.

The vultures known as middlemen will pick apart the carcass of my Kupo and disseminate its remains immediately. Due to the dubious nature of middlemen, the trickle will be slow. By the time it reaches the student population, it'll join the ranks of other unsubstantiated rumors. The only ones who'll put stock in it are those with a vested interest—namely Olette.

Which is why I can't submit this post right now; there are too many eyes. If I release this too early, it will force a premature confrontation between Hayner and Olette, and I can't have them sorting out the issue before the pièce de résistance a la Rikku. I need Olette to be on edge the next morning, and then punch her in the gut with Rikku wearing her necklace.

You might think I'm overdoing it, but there's no such thing as being too careful. The events of yesterday are still fresh in my mind. My hastiness—or perhaps desperation—made me lose my cool, and I ended up spilling my greatest secret to another person—and a girl at that.

What can I say? She pried it out of me. It was on her turf, she had the leverage, and I was at my wit's end, cornered like a rat with no way out. I had no choice but to bite.

The only way I can get back into game is if I scheme, after all, it's what I do best. Nothing can match that feeling of watching a plan unfold exactly as I envisioned. It doesn't always work out the way I expect it to, but problem solving, no matter how messy it is, is still solving a problem.

I scheduled my post to show up at 4 in the morning. For all that hand wringing, the resulting action is as simple as that. Even the smallest actions can hold a wealth of intent. The margin for error is thin. If I fail, it will be spectacular. No matter how nasty the fallout, Hayner can't pretend that he didn't ask for it.

I gently stroke Tabby, who's been warming up my lap. The cat purrs appreciatively, exhaustion evident in its soft mewls. "You and me both."

Footsteps run up the stairs. With that kind of weight, it must be Roxas. I look at the guitar case leaning against the bed and recall all the trouble I had to go through in order to get it. It had better be worth it. I stand up, pick up the instrument, and carry it towards the door before peeking into the hallway. My cousin stands there seemingly lost in thought. "Yo."

"Oh, hey," he says, caught off guard by my greeting. "I was just, uh…" Dawdling around like an idiot? Yeah, I know.

"I got something for you." I open the door wider and show off the guitar. "What do you think?"

"Whoa, is that what I think it is?" His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas day. He crouches down and opens up the case. His fingers slide across the strings tenderly. "This looks…vintage." He takes it out and holds it in playing position. "How'd you get this?"

"I called in a favor… I think." I shouldn't owe Rikku anything for this. My secret is payment enough. "I've been curious as to how good you are."

He bows his head in embarrassment. "Don't expect too much. Let's see…" He tweaks the strings lightly. "Looks like it's tuned properly. Okay, here goes." He takes the pick and strums it across, wringing out a pleasant hum. He tests out a few chords but they sound out of rhythm. "Sorry, it's been awhile since I played."

"Why are you making excuses to me? Go practice."

"You're right." He puts the guitar back into the case. "Hey, Sora…" he trails off.

"What is it?"

He stares at the case and shuts it. "Never mind."

I suppress a sigh. "Am I gonna have to pry it out of you?"

"It's just a question I already know the answer to," he answers. "So there's no point in asking. Thanks for the guitar. I won't let it go to waste." There's more to it, I can feel it, but poking anymore will only make him retreat further. I'll just have to let it go.

"In that case, good night."

He nods and carries the guitar into his room.

I'm exhausted, and I've done all I can for tonight. There's nothing left to do except clock out. I drop my head on the pillow and teleport into the future.

With a new day comes new challenges. Life is a never ending struggle, and that goes double for those with mental issues. I don't doubt that there are countless others like myself suffering in silence. The only we can do is take it one day at a time.

Compared to yesterday, my walk to school is butter smooth with nary a bump in sight. Popularity is a fickle thing. Merely twenty four hours ago, I was public enemy number one, but today, I'm nobody. If I were anyone else, I might lament my breezy ten minutes of fame, but I say good riddance.

I arrive to school with an extra bounce in my step. Life's easy when you know what to expect. Unfortunately, nothing is guaranteed. One small miscalculation and even the best laid plan can collapse like a flimsy house of cards.

I'm here a little earlier than usual, and I've got about ten minutes to spare before first period. Even though there's no reason for me to hide out, I decide to go to the art room. I should be maximizing my time with a bonafide celebrity anyways. It's not a chance that comes around often.

I open the door and spot Naminé planted behind a canvas. She pokes her head out and eyes me warily. "Wasn't expecting you to show up."

"I got some time to kill." I walk around the desks and examine her painting. I see a mess of yellow and brown paint on top of stick figures. She is truly a terrible artist. "What's that supposed to be?"

"Just a scene from my show," she answers cheerily.

"It sucks."

She giggles. "I appreciate your honest opinion." My criticism doesn't deter her from vandalizing the poor canvas even further. I feel sorry for it. You must endure, canvas, I know you were meant for better things! "How quickly the winds change. It's not unlike the entertainment world. One day, you're a rising star, and the next, you're a washed up nobody."

"Surely, you're not speaking from experience?"

"No, but I see it all the time. And just as soon a star dips, either another one takes its place, or it comes back brighter than before. You've yet to shine, Sora. All you need is…the right stage." There's an underlying implication to that statement that I don't like at all.

"Thanks, but no thanks. My days of fame are long over. I'm happy being normal."

"Is that what you call yourself? Normal?"

"It's the truth," I assert firmly, if only because I'm trying to convince myself.

"If that's what you believe." She signs her name at the corner with her brush and nods in approval. "Can you help me up?" She stretches out her hand, but she's not wearing her gloves.

I gulp. This isn't just any hand; this is the naked hand of Stella Star, the daintiest of all dainty hands. It's slender, immaculately manicured, and infinitely feminine. Her head is still shrouded in a hood, which mitigates her overall image, allowing me enough breathing room to grasp her warm fingers. She slides off the seat and grazes my knuckles with her feather light touch, leaving a trail of tingles on my skin. I clench my teeth too keep myself from losing my head.

She slips on her gloves, oblivious to my struggle. "I'm looking forward to our date after school today."

"When did it become a date?" What's with these girls and their "dates?" It's just a friendly outing!

"If it's between a boy and a girl, it's called a date," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I'll see you in class." She runs out before I can reply.

I take a few moments to gather my wits. I almost forgot that I planned an engagement with her. The hand job she gave me earlier threw me off. I chalk it up to her star power. If she were a normal girl, I probably wouldn't be sweating so much.

I'm starting to rethink things with Naminé. I might've let her celebrity status blind me the other day, because she's been acting erratic. Can't she pick a character and just stick with it? She's gone from super shy to perplexingly playful in such a short amount of time. I can't pin her down at all.

Alright, recovery complete. I exit the art room and head to first period. I open the door only to meet Ms. Holland's determined gaze from across the room. My hair stands on end from the sheer force of her will. Shit. She's not backing down. Sometimes, you knock somebody down so hard; they come back at you with a vengeance. I should've known better than to think that she would roll over and play dead for me.

"Hikari, I won't lose to you today!" she declares, aiming her finger at me in threatening fashion. Now that's just rude, and annoying. This must be karma for everything I've gotten away with. As long as she doesn't get in my face, Lightning style, I should be okay.

I take my seat and ignore her pointed stares. It's hot enough to set lesser men ablaze. I turn to the adjacent seat and spot Xion giving me a bored glance. "Good morning."

"Tch." She turns away as if laid on my lamest pick up line on her.

"That's not a proper response to a greeting, you know?"

"It's not something worth responding to," she argues. "The more I talk to Roxas, the more I'm convinced that…" I'm a nice guy? He must be fighting for my cause. Good job, Roxas. I knew you were good for at least _something_. "That you're a manipulative asshole." Never mind. Screw you Roxas! What the hell have you been telling her?

"What? Didn't you just apologize to me yesterday?"

"It's clear that he respects you, but the way he puts you a pedestal is unhealthy. It reminds me too much of… It's not good. I don't know what your intentions are, but I doubt it's anything good. I know what kind of person you are, Sora. You say nice things, but that's all it is, empty words. As long as you get what's yours, it doesn't matter how many other people get hurt."

"Be careful about the accusations you throw out there," I warn. "You wouldn't want it to blow up in your face." I hate it when people get preachy on me. Can't I go one day without somebody thinking they got me all figured out? Nobody knows me but me. "You don't know anything about me, so I'd appreciate if you'd stop pretending that you do."

"And what do you know about Roxas?"

"What about him?"

"You see, that's what I mean. All I'll say is this: if you hurt Roxas, I won't forgive you."

"That's my line," I mutter. Looks like Xion and Roxas are getting along just fine, enough that she'd be flying to his defense. Confidence is what he needs, not a white knight on his behalf.

First period is off to a bad start, and it only gets worse from here. As part of her revenge plot, Ms. Holland picks on me for every question in class despite my sarcastic remarks.

"Sora, do you know the answer?"

"No, but I'm sure the other students who are actually raising their hands do."

"So you don't know. Class, don't be like Sora and study hard so that you'll be able to answer questions correctly." And she goes on her merry way, lecturing with reckless abandon and gleefully enjoying my irritation. The wilting rose bares its thorns at last, and it pricks.

The bell rings mercifully, ending this bout of cruel and unusual punishment. If the teacher wants to act like a vindictive grade schooler, then that's fine. Better she do that than harass me with hugs and kisses—not that she would, but some forms of harassment are preferable to others.

I grab my bag and slip out of the room before she could rub it in my face any further. Today's like opposite day. The tables have turned and everything's gone topsy turvy. The Hayner-Olette plan is my only redemption. I'll have to salvage the day somehow.

I enter second period, History with Tifa, and instinctively watch for Olette. She looks under the weather. The dark circles beneath her eyes, the teeth-chattering agitation, and the repeated clutching of her skirt point to definite unease. My rumor has found its mark. I take out my phone and quickly scan the Kupoverse. My rumor's deader than a doornail, which means my shrewd info drop worked. That's the set up, the only thing left is the punch line, and that won't happen until nutrition.

"What's eating you?" I ask as I take my seat.

"Huh? Oh, hey Sora… Nothing's eating me, what makes you say that?" Because I see the giant monster known as jealousy chewing on your helpless mind.

"You look nervous."

"Really?" She laughs nervously. "It must be stress from school."

"Even though we're only four days in?"

"Oh? W-well, my other classes are killer," she excuses.

I keep my mouth shut and play it straight. Nutrition may be the first time Hayner and Olette meet today. Ideally, Olette woke up this morning to the preposterous suggestion that Rikku and Hayner are an item. With such devastating news, she'd probably need some time to herself before a confrontation.

Too bad, Olette, because time's up.

I take out my phone and text Hayner.

**Sora: Introduce me to Olette at nutrition.**

I believe it's time for the grand meeting, and this will give me a pretext to supervise and direct the proceedings. In case you're wondering, I pilfered Hayner's number from Roxas' cell phone when he wasn't looking. Besides, something as plain as acquiring phone numbers shouldn't require an explanation.

**Hayner: today?**

My text implied as such.

**Sora: Yes. **

He takes an awful long time to reply.

**Hayner: dunno if thats gonna work she hasnt been replyin to me lately**

That confirms my hypothesis. Damn, I'm good.

**Sora: Just send her a text to meet you in the courtyard. I'll handle the rest.**

**Hayner: fine**

Oh ye of little faith, have a little more trust in me. I keep an eye on Olette and catch the moment she receives his text. She sneaks a glance at her lap and I call out to her, "Olette!"

She jumps. "W-what is it?"

I attempt my best motivational speech, "You say you're stressed out about school, right? I guess I can relate. When you look at the syllabus, all those assignments and percentages can be daunting. You know what helps me get through it? I clear things up with the teacher. For instance, this final project is worth 30% of our grade, which sounds terrible at first glance, but when you get down to the nitty gritty, it's not so bad." Okay, I know I'm reaching with the metaphors, but that's what she gave me. It's the best I could do with such weak material.

She's completely bewildered. "Thanks…?"

"All I'm trying to say is, the best way to get rid of stress is to get rid of uncertainty. Get the answers you need, and I guarantee it's not as bad as you think." I don't think I can make it any more obvious than that while maintaining the illusion of ignorance.

"I… I think I understand. Yeah, I'll just ask him about it…"

"Him?"

"The teacher—I'll ask the teacher about it!" she covers quickly.

I grin. "That's the spirit." Whew, I think I convinced her. She seems to be hyping herself up in preparation. Glad I got through. I just have to add one last player before the stage is set. I punch in my message and send it.

**Sora: You ready?**

I don't get anything. Come on, reply already. My plan will be for naught if you're not there!

**Rikku: ya… hope u kno what ur doin**

I let out a sigh of relief and laugh. Who does she think I am? As long as everybody plays their part, everything will go splendidly.

It's high time I get back into my groove.


	27. A Mighty Wind

**Chapter 27: A Mighty Wind**

Animals have a keen sense for danger.

You often hear of cats and dogs scrambling before the storm, flocks scattering in the wind, and all manner of wildlife vacating on visions of doom, but humans have seemingly lost this ability to sense danger. Perhaps it's not because our senses have dulled, but because we choose to ignore it. Why run when we can overcome? Although nature throws a curveball from time to time, we have largely mastered her fickle spells, leaving us free to concentrate on more pertinent matters—like each other. Danger no longer comes in tornadoes and tsunamis, but in people.

We don't care for natural disasters; we're more concerned about each other, about gossip, scandal, and controversy. There's something attractive about the dirty side of life. We can't help ourselves. We're drawn to it like flies to a zapper. When shit's about to hit the fan, we just _have_ to be there to see it.

I can tell, as I stand here with Hayner, awaiting Olette's arrival, that something spectacular is about to happen. Instinct tries to steer me away from this inevitable shipwreck, but I have a hand in this, and it's my responsibility to see this ship to the bottom of the sea.

Hayner, who should have no idea of what's coming, seems to suspect an incoming clash from the way he paces, soles pounding against the pavement in circles, hands rubbing compulsively, and face flitting between confusion and worry. The air is so thick with tension, it's gonna take an ax to hack through it.

"Are you worried about something?" I ask.

"Kinda… Whenever she doesn't reply, it usually means she's mad," he says, staring at his phone. "It's weird… I don't remember doing anything that would make her angry." He frowns, and quietly claws through his memory for clues. Sorry, but you ain't gonna find anything in there.

"Got any ideas?" It's a cruel question because I already know the answer—like throwing a lifesaver made out of bait into a sea of sharks.

He shrugs. "Nope."

"If you can't think of anything, then you probably didn't do anything." I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the wall. We're outside, next to the lawns, caught between classrooms and halls, surrounded by students seeking food and company, along with loners napping under shade of tree or staring blankly into space. Everything trucks on as usual, away from this manufactured scene of mine.

There's a certain spice to a directed event. Life is a series of random encounters between actors, but rarely do we step into a carefully manicured stage. Sunlight bounces off the concrete, catching shadows in the ceilings, and a soft breeze washes over the lawn, a pond of green rippling in the wind.

"Are you sure she's coming?" His eyes glisten with the worry of a lost puppy.

"If she doesn't, I'd be very disappointed."

Where are you, Olette? I set up this fantastic scene and you're not even going to show up? Don't let my efforts be in vain. The faster I'm done with this, the better. I've got more important things to worry about—like Naminé.

"Ah—"

I lift my head and spot Olette approaching tentatively, her arms rigid, neck bent, and eyes stuck to the ground, each step filled with trepidation, inching forward like a sad turtle. Hayner's shoulders seem to rise the closer she gets, and when she finally stops in front of him, he lets go, and his body sinks into familiarity.

"Hey, Olette." His cheer-infused greeting bounces off harmlessly as she lifts her head, her face painted with uncertainty.

"Hayner." A mere acknowledgement. She doesn't notice me. When your whole world is focused on one person, the background doesn't matter. My feelings aren't hurt. It's better this way.

"So what's the deal? Did I do something?" he asks, lacing his fingers behind his head.

She looks off to the side and watches the windy ripples on the grass. "Not that it's any of my business but… Is there any girl you like?"

"Huh?" He almost loses balance and glances at me. I ignore him. You're gonna have to figure this out for yourself, buddy.

"Oh, er, well… About that…" He laughs nervously. "If I'm being completely honest, then yeah… I mean, that's normal, isn't it?" He looks at me and mouths, "_Did you tell her?_" I shake my head.

"Normal… I guess that's true. We're already in high school. It's hard not to have experienced that, especially here in Destiny High." Her demeanor totally changes, and the air around her brightens considerably—if artificially. "I'm happy for you. Good luck with her." She backs away.

"W-wait, what are you talking about?"

She stops, showing her back to him. "Because you and… Rikku. She's nice, and pretty, and I can see why'd you go for her. It's not like I'm—I don't care, okay? Just have fun together." She almost had it until she spat out those last few words. Her composure is cracking.

He grabs her shoulder and she recoils. He hesitates, waiting for her to break away, but she doesn't. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I never even heard of 'Rikku.'" She remains unmoved. "I don't know what you've heard, but you've got it all wrong. Just—forget what I said. There's no girl I like. We're friends, and that's never going to change. Can you tell me what I did to piss you off? I wanna fix this."

Ugh, you moron. That was your chance! Why didn't you just tell her that the girl you liked was _her_?!

"I'm not mad at you." She turns around and faces him. Her face is a mixture of relief and resignation. "I guess I'm just mad at myself. Sorry, I'm being stupid."

Hayner visibly relaxes, his shoulders sagging. "No you're not. I should be apologizing."

"For what?"

"I don't know. Because I feel like it?"

She laughs. "You're such an idiot." They settle into an easy atmosphere, relieved of all tension.

Now we're back to square one, and he wonders why he never gets anywhere. Idiot just backpedaled himself out of contention. The second they dipped their toes into the possibility of more than friends, imaginary cold seizes them, and they revert back to "just friends." What's the point of locking up before you even touch the water? The only way I can get these two moving is to push them into the lake. It's sink or swim.

Unbeknownst to them, right around the corner is Rikku waiting for my signal. She told me she didn't have a good feeling about this, but I assured her that this was necessary. Despite her misgivings, she went along with me easily. Perhaps exposing my secret has garnered me far more sympathy than I realized. If I tell the whole school, would all the girls leave me alone?

Yeah right.

I look to Rikku and she nods back. My only direction was this, "_Make her jealous_." I hold my breath as Rikku rounds the corner and makes her grand entrance, dressed in her best clothes—and by best, I mean clothes that accentuate her every curve and every inch of exposed skin shining through tasteful cuts in her outfit. Hayner is absolutely floored. Olette, confused at his sudden breathlessness, looks over her shoulder. Her eyes widen like petals in the sunlight. Was this truly the girl that I was with yesterday? She seemed so dull up close, but from this distance, she's as bright as the sun.

They watch in dumb silence as she saunters up to Hayner, strokes his cheek, and kisses it. "Hey babe," she says, her voice dripping with sweetness, and demeanor drenched in delectable honey.

"W-w-wha—" Hayner is a poor stuttering mess. The situation is too much for him.

Olette's gaze is firmly fixed on Rikku's neck where Hayner's necklace hangs. Her face contorts, stuck between neutrality and devastation, playing to dissonant notes of anguish. It's an amazing composition she displays, dropping to depths of pain and teetering on the edge of total breakdown. On one side is bewilderment and ignorance, and on the other is inner torment and hopelessness. It's a beautiful image, a true masterpiece, personally framed and captured by myself.

"_Liar_." I barely caught her whisper on the wind.

By the time Hayner got Rikku off him, Olette was long gone. "Olette?" His head swings in every direction. "Damn it, where'd she go?" She's nowhere in sight. His eyes fall on me, filled with fury. Now that's what I like to see. I've enough of this timid bullshit from him. He walks up to me and grabs my collar, "What the fuck, man?"

I can't help but grin. It seems to piss him off even more, and he shakes me. I stand my ground. Kairi is far more threatening than this flimsy intimidation attempt. I shrug it off by pulling his hands away. "Relax, Hayner. If you guys are truly best friends, this is nothing but a speed bump."

"Fuck you. What the hell did you do? Now she's totally got the wrong idea about me, and even worse, it looks like I lied to her!"

Rikku shoots me a worried look from behind.

"Would that make her angry?"

"Of course!"

"Why? Who you go out with is none of her business."

"Because—because it's about trust, and I betrayed that." It's amazing how his anger towards me turned to himself. Why's he taking the blame? It's not his fault Olette jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"Hayner." He looks at me, distraught. "Look at it logically. This is all the evidence you need, and any doubt should be cleared up by now."

"What?"

"The only reason Olette would be angry isn't because you lied, it's because of what you 'lied' about, Rikku. It's jealousy, plain and simple. Cause and effect, cause being, she fucking likes you." Although I laid it out as clearly as I could, he doesn't believe it. It's easier to refute the possibility than take responsibility for newfound knowledge that, quite frankly, makes his actions embarrassing. All this watching from the bushes amounts to nothing if you don't put that plan into action and tie that bitch up and take her for all she's worth. It should be obvious when she's stripping in plain sight and shooting you coquettish glances every five minutes.

"I… I can't. I just can't. Even though it makes sense, even though there's nothing but upside, I just—I just can't." His form slumps over with the realization that everything starts—and ends—with him. Perhaps asking for my help was a waste of time. I can give him the rationale, but as long as he can't accept it, it's never going to work. "Thanks for the help… I guess."

"Just explain to her the situation."

"No, it's fine. Maybe it's better like this. I'm sorry for all the trouble."

"Um…" Rikku starts. "I guess this belongs to you?" She holds out the necklace.

He stares at it, the light of recognition hitting his eyes. "Keep it, I don't deserve it."

I snatch the necklace out of her hands and shove it into his chest. "There are two choices here, Hayner. You could mend things, and put yourself on the same track and end up nowhere in the end. Or, you can take this chance and go off the rails. Maybe you'll eventually end up nowhere, but there's a chance you'll end up someplace you never expected to. The train's stopped right now, and it's up to you where you go. Don't waste this chance." I let it go and he grabs the necklace before it hits the ground.

"I'm sorry, Hayner," Rikku offers.

He laughs. "You must be Rikku." He scratches his head in embarrassment. "It's okay. You were only trying to help me out, right?" He pauses, "I'm gonna go now," and slinks away.

They're gone, leaving me alone with Rikku.

She gives me a suspicious look. "Were you really trying to help?"

"Why else would I bother?"

She folds her hands behind her back. "Because you're a jerk? I wouldn't put it past you."

I chuckle. "I only did what the plot demanded."

"What plot?"

"Every good story needs conflict, or else we'd be stuck in the same routine forever. The more arbitrary and dumb the conflict, the faster it gets resolved, if only because it's so damn obvious it's bullshit. Of course, real life's not a story. This kind of thing would never happen naturally, especially for them, since they have perfect poker faces around each other—until you show them the right hand. Flash the queen and they get nervous, doubt themselves, and finally fold, just like that."

"Are you saying I'm the queen?" she asks, smiling.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you're the trump card."

"What is?"

"The ace—me. It goes without saying."

"You're full of it." I laugh. Genuinely. I feel at ease, even if I'm deliberately keeping myself three feet away from her at all times. She notices my distance but understands and accommodates by skirting around. "Do you really think things will work out? It's kinda harsh, what you did."

"If that's harsh, that my life has been a living hell." Not a wholly inaccurate statement, mind you. "Nothing changes on its own. Something has to start it. Whether it's good or bad, it doesn't matter. It just needs to happen." Conflict catalyzes change. It's the universal law of development.

"The end doesn't always justify the means." I've heard that one before. It's not like murder was involved here. Sometimes, a little bit of bad can do a lot of good. "So why'd you do all this?"

"He asked for it." Literally. I'm just indulging in favors and cleaning out my plate.

"And what about you?"

I raise a brow. "What about me?"

"Don't you need to change as well? Or are you satisfied getting sick every time a girl gets close?"

"That's a different story."

"Please. You're just excluding yourself from your own rules. Isn't that too convenient?" I don't answer her because I know it's true. We all make exceptions and exclusions for ourselves. It's easier that way. And simple. "I've got a few ideas about your condition. I'm thinking something like shock therapy. Would you like a hug?"

I let out a sharp gasp as if I've just been stabbed. "Whoa, let's not get too crazy. What you're proposing is more like a lobotomy. Way too extreme and likely to leave me a vegetable."

She looks disappointed. "Aww. How about a kiss on the cheek?" Now you're just escalating things for the hell of it!

"Absolutely not." I cover my mouth as the mere thought triggers nausea. "Ugh, I feel sick—no offense," I add quickly, seeing her hurt face.

"I've been thinking about lots of different ways to help…"

"Don't worry about me. I'll handle this on my own." Her displeasure is as clear as day. Nothing she comes up with can challenge my years of processes. It's not comparable—or worth hearing about. Why is she so invested in my problem anyways? "Rikku, is there anyone you like?"

"I wonder…" she trails off, stroking her chin. It doesn't look like I'll get a solid answer. Fine, be vague about it.

"Just to let you know, I'd be a horrible boyfriend—unless you enjoy me throwing up on you every time we get intimate."

She finds my reply hilarious. "I'll wait until you're cured."

"I don't know what you'd be waiting for, but it'll be a long time before I'm cured."

A strong wind rips between us, tossing her banana braids over one side of her head. She smiles at me and licks her lips, tasting the air. "I don't mind. Chances are, you won't be waiting as long as you think you will."

"Why is that?"

Her cheeks dimple mischievously. "I have a hunch." She slaps me on the shoulder and winks. "Catch you later!"

That is so not cool. I clench my teeth and wait for the burning sensation on my arm to subside. That kind of unprovoked attack is precisely why I regret revealing my secret to her. What else has she got in store for me?

I stretch out my arm and rotate it. After all we've been through, she's been oddly agreeable. That tiny slap pales in comparison to my expectations though. I've been thinking she's gonna glomp my sorry ass one of these days, and then it'll be the end of me. I'm glad she's holding back.

Hell, I may even find it in my heart to trust her some day.

Maybe.


	28. A Grand Audition

**Chapter 28: A Grand Audition**

Why are people so afraid of confrontation?

I'm the last guy who should be saying this, since my bread and butter is avoiding conflict, but people need to man up and show some resolve. The average person is a damned coward. Introduce the slightest bit of stress and they melt down. They want to avoid being the "bad guy." Is being bad so bad? I've been playing bad for years, and take it from me, it's not so bad.

In a tourist-heavy culture such as Destiny Island's, we're afraid of offending others. We try to be as inclusive as possible. Unfortunately, this tendency has seeped into our daily lives, which is why a case like Hayner's isn't surprising. In our pursuit of complete customer satisfaction, we've lost our balls in the process. We just want to be liked. Nobody wants to be hated, but there will be times when thick skin is required. It's impossible to go through life without getting _some_ hate.

It's a lousy excuse, don't you think? It's not that we're afraid of offending others; it's that we're afraid of being offended ourselves. We don't want to be dragged into an argument where our worst features get exposed, whether it's stubborn pride, ignorance, or stupidity. Politeness is just a self-serving notion disguised as noble intent. So we play nice, keep our heads down, and live on in ignorance. The best defense is no offense. Of course, you'll never score any points that way.

Hayner should've known than to push his responsibilities to me. Asking me for help was like handing car keys over to a ten year old who's played too many racing games. First thing I did was crash a wall and let him deal with the mess. It takes a harsh measure to provoke the appropriate response. I've reduced all his options to the one he should've taken in the first place: confrontation.

Just confront her and let her decide if his feelings are worth reciprocating. To see him cast aside such an obvious answer for my convoluted nonsense was disheartening. For me, who is deprived of confrontation, to see those perfectly capable avoid the issue is akin to teasing an amputee with toes and fingers. It's cruelty of the highest order.

How I've longed for a vis-à-vis tête-à-tête. The mind is willing but the body isn't. I have to ask myself though: am I doing it wrong? Is my way of life a sham? I realize it's not ideal, but it's practical. One should go through life with the least amount of pain, right? Maybe… It's not about minimizing pain, but maximizing happiness. Humans are naturally risk-adverse. Even when the reward far outstrips the risk, the pain of loss is enough to make us pause.

I suppose I can understand Hayner a little. He doesn't want to lose what he already has with Olette. However, if you got the chips, you gotta use 'em. All my life, I've been standing outside the tables, watching idiots gamble and fold at the worst times. That's why I know the odds. As long as I can play, I know I can win. The only problem? I've never had any chips to start with. I can't play even if I wanted to.

It was a nice distraction at least, though not entirely unique. Childhood friends and lovers... You can only be friends for so long before the hormones kick in. Perhaps I would've been saved if I had someone like that in my early years; a girl who would've stuck by me no matter how hard I pushed her away. Oh well, whatever happened, already happened. No use considering what-ifs.

It's such a waste though, to risk a lifelong friendship for something as nebulous as "love." Deep friendships are rare. What's the saying again? Ah, that's right, "Bros before ho's." To put it nicely though: "Friends are forever, but love is fleeting." I had neither friend nor ho, but now I've got too many to count. First Rikku, and now Naminé… How many more are gonna pretend to be my friend before the week is over?

I'm stuck here in Ms. Trepe's class doing nothing. I could feel her staring at me even when she's turned around. I swear, she's got eyes on the back of her head. To make things worse, her hand is hovering above the whip fastened to her belt. This ain't no duel, teacher. Whatever, Trepe's gonna Trepe. Nothing I can do about it.

Can the day just end already? Let the kids out early today. I've got cabin fever. It's not like I'm getting out of here scot-free. Naminé's waiting for me, and as amiable as she's been, I can't help but be wary. Waiting make everything worse somehow.

I look at Riku over my shoulder. He's been quiet. I don't like it when a pain in the ass goes dull. Usually means it'll return with twice the fury later. There's one reason I can think of that may have given him pause, and that's Xion. Whatever they went through, it sure turned out a couple of bitter jerks. Their behavior stinks of overcompensation. How else do you get a top-class player and player-hater? They're quite the pair.

I hope Xion's making good progress with Roxas. I'm not too invested in his success, but it may spell the difference between a minor pain and a major one. Win or lose, Riku doesn't strike me as one to retreat quietly into the night. I'm rooting for my cousin. That's about the best endorsement of Roxas you'll ever get from me.

This week's been ridiculous and it's not even over. First day of school and some guy challenges me for a girl I don't even like. It's like a set up for a bad sitcom except the plot hasn't gone anywhere even though it's already been ten episodes. Despite that, I can't pause. The show must go on, and I'm just waiting for my season finale.

Third period ends and I move on to Branford's class. I'm greeted with Rikku's smiling face when I walk in. It makes my stomach churn. My condition wasn't built for sunny dispositions. "Your smile makes me sick."

My grimace reduces her expression to a mild frown, which makes me feel a little better. "If anybody else told me that, I'd be insulted," she says.

"Does that mean I get a free pass?"

"You make it real easy for people to hate you, you know that?"

"Force of habit." Just telling it like it is. Does she expect us to be all buddy-buddy after yesterday's confrontation? Things don't work that fast. I'm still coming to grips with her change of heart. It's like finding out that the bully who's been tormenting you is being abused at home. Sure, you can have _some_ sympathy, and maybe a _little_ pity, but that don't mean we're supposed to be best friends for life all of a sudden. The past can't be changed—forgiven, but not forgotten.

"Is it that hard to talk to me?" she asks.

Like pulling teeth. "It is." I sit down, lean back, and close my eyes. It's the small things that relieve the pressure. It's why we double over, hold our stomachs, or massage our heads when we feel like shit. I don't care if it has no physical effect because a psychological benefit is just as good.

"Don't know whether to feel sorry or say it's well-deserved."

"I don't suffer because I'm an asshole; I'm an asshole because I suffer."

"A likely excuse."

"But a legitimate one."

She sighs. "Is it really so bad though?"

"Of course it is." What a ridiculous question.

"I don't mean your condition," she corrects. "I mean if people found out about it. People might look at you a little weird, but I don't think it can get much worse than that." Come on, like I haven't already thought of that? Sure, that's how it is at first, but what about after that? There's a certain amount of predictability in the future, but things get increasingly haywire the further along you go.

"Because people will get curious, and curiosity means interest, and interest means attention, and attention is the last thing I want."

She laughs. "You think girls will throw themselves at you once they find out? Wouldn't they avoid you instead?"

"Common sense doesn't work in Destiny Islands. It could be as you say, but it could also be the opposite. Either way, I'm not trying to _live_ with my condition; I'm trying to cure it. If it all works out, it won't even matter. It'll just be a thing of the past."

"What if it's not curable?"

Then I'm fucked. "It is."

"I wonder what would happen if your secret ever got out…"

"My worst nightmare, that's what."

"I think you're making a bigger deal out of this than it really is."

Oh, sure, tell me all about it. You're not the one who's suffering here. Don't act like you know anything.

"What a lively conversation you two are having," Ms. Branford says, butting in. We're lively? What about you, Branford? I haven't seen her this excited since…well; I haven't seen her excited at all. I don't like this. She's supposed to be a bored science drone, not this smiling Cheshire cat. "It's a little disappointing to see."

"Why's that?" Rikku replies.

"Never thought you'd asked! As a scientist, I can't help but make a few very astute observations, so I'd like to extend an opportunity to you, Sora."

"Me?"

She nods vigorously. Is this how all science freaks are? The moment something catches their scientific curiosity, they turn all giddy? "How would you like to get an easy 'A?'"

Like I'm falling for that. "Nothing is ever easy."

"Very astute observation, Sora, but you have to realize, I have access to all your academic records, and you don't exactly have a stellar history when it comes to a special kind of class, am I wrong?" Oh god. Don't tell me she knows. She leans in close with a predatory grin. "If you'll cooperate with me on a special research project, I will give you an A and excuse you from all future assignments and tests."

"What?!" Paine yells out. I forgot she was in this class. She's been suspiciously quiet up until this point. "Why does he get that kind of special privilege?"

"Because special students need special attention. The opportunity's yours whenever you want it," she says, winking at the end. She returns to her desk as if the matter was settled.

"Lucky you," Rikku adds dryly.

Paine sends me a red glare and I get the shivers. What the hell is going on here? I'm raising flags all over the place. I've had enough of these side missions. What could Branford be thinking? If she knows about my condition, if her "research project" has anything do with it, it's probably best to steer clear of her for now. I can't catch a break, can I?

Class finally starts, and whether out of boredom or consideration, Rikku shuts up for the time being. Branford begins her lecture and makes a surprise announcement, "Alright students, from now on, every assignment in class will be done in groups. Considering the class roster, you will all be divided into groups of three. Don't worry about finding partners since I did it already." The class lets out a collective groan. "First up, Rikku, Paine, and…Sora."

So that's it. That's how she's playing? What a sneaky little—worst of all, it's all within the rules too. I can't file a complaint since it's not a clear-cut case of discrimination. She's totally got me. What a bitch!

She finishes announcing the groups. "This will count as class participation and make up 50% of your grade. No participation, no passing. Don't worry; we won't have any group assignments this week." She gives me a pointed look. "Plenty of time to get comfortable with your group mates. Shall we rearrange the seats so that you'll all be closer to each other?"

"I guess you're stuck with me in more ways than one," Rikku whispers.

"Lucky me."

The lunch bell grants me mercy and I'm outta here. My tolerance is wearing thin. Any more of this nonsense and I'm throwing in the white towel. You can't pay me to put up with this. I am so exhausted. I'm not looking forward to next period either since hell is waiting for me in the form of Kairi. Maybe I should ditch class again? She's due for another appearance anyways. I haven't seen her for a whole day. Doesn't that mean she'll return with twice the fury? With my luck, she'll be waiting for me in bed. If any other guy could be so lucky, right?

I'm walking towards the cafeteria until somebody jumps in front of me. "Sora, there you are!" It's Ms. Heartily, and she's wearing a mighty scary face. What in the— "WHY DID YOU NOT ATTEND CLASS YESTERDAY?" she screams into my face. "I checked your attendance. You showed up to every class except for mine. Was it something I said? Something I did? Tell me!"

I back up cautiously. I don't know how it feels to have a desperate ex beg me to come back, but this must be what it feels like. The stench of desperation is strong with this one. Is the attention of my lowly self so significant that she's almost on her knees begging for explanations? This isn't good for my health. "I was just feeling sick. Must've been something I ate for lunch."

"LIAR!" I flinch from the outburst. She jabs a threatening finger in my face. "I have it on good authority that you had a healthy school lunch with cheese and crackers." Good authority my ass, what the hell's Naminé doing exposing my diet to teachers? "Look, don't leave me again, okay?"

That sensation—it's hitting me again, just like yesterday! This sense of calm and…nostalgia?

_Don't leave me, please stay._

Those words ring in my head. Where I have I heard it before?

"You got that?" she repeats.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Don't worry…"

_I won't leave you. _

Again! This must be a crack of sunshine from the past. I feel so close but I can't get the whole picture. No, it's escaping! Shit. I've lost it. That was random. Was it triggered by the dialogue just now?

"Good, then you're coming with me," she says plainly. She grabs my arm and drags me to class. Normally, I'd be feeling all kinds of ill, but I feel unaffected. My daze dissipates when we reach the classroom. "Now sit down where I can keep an eye on you," she says cutely. I nod dumbly.

What was it that Rikku said yesterday?

_Can I be your friend?_

Not the exact words but close enough. I'm only remembering fragments. This is gonna drive me nuts. Damn tip-of-the-tongue syndrome. It's like waiting for an amnesiac to recover his memories, that classic contrived soap opera plot device: amnesia of convenience. I just wanna close my eyes and wake up a new man. The sound of the door opening stirs my attention.

It's Kairi. She offers a warm smile and I turn away instantly. It's kindness like that that kills. "Haven't seen you in a while," she says.

"Been busy."

"We should catch up some time. Maybe later?"

What, not now? Fine by me. "Sure."

I peek in my peripheral and see her go to Ms. Heartily. She hands the teacher a note and Heartily makes a disappointed look. "It can't be helped?"

"Sorry, it's just for today," Kari answers.

"Alright. But be sure to be here tomorrow," Heartily says.

Kairi nods and walks to the door. "I'll see you later, Sora."

"What's that about?" I ask Heartily.

"Just an excuse to leave school early. Damn today's youth. They get all the fun," she says bitterly.

Is this…? "You mean she's not gonna be in class?"

"That's right." Bless my luck today! Fortune has finally smiled on me. About time it did its damn job. "That's the second day in a row I don't get a full class," she whines.

"Cheer up, teacher. At least you'll have the class's undivided attention."

She brightens up instantly. "You're right! I hadn't thought of that!" What a carefree teacher.

Kairi's absence is only a temporary reprieve though. I can't ditch Heartily's class again since she has some serious abandonment issues, like a clingy girlfriend who needs a text everyday. Ain't nobody got time for that. But who knows what she'll do if I ditch the next time? She might attack me in my sleep or something. Never underestimate the power of desperation.

With Kairi out of the picture, I can enjoy Heartily's class heartily, especially since I'm seated in the back now (thanks, Kairi).

"You're looking awful happy," Naminé says.

"Do I really? I guess I'm really looking forward to our outing after school."

"Outing? It's a date." Girls and their "dates." It's an outing. No different than two guys hanging out. End of story.

"Whatever you say."

She doesn't reply immediately. "No, you're right. It's not a date… But it's not an outing either…"

"What is it then?"

"You'll find out very soon. Have a little patience!"

Class is done and I move on to PE where Lightning puts me through hell drills. I'm already used to it. I don't know what her grudge against me is, but I'll endure quietly. I know too well the futility of fighting back, especially against gym teachers. What faster way to accrue lap than to argue with one? Finally, it's time to get out of here. I dress up and exit the locker room.

"Hey." That was fast. Was Naminé waiting outside the boy's locker room this entire time? And here I was, thinking I'd hit up the art room.

"Don't be too excited," I caution.

"Speak for yourself. Now follow me."

"So where are we going, if you don't mind me asking?" She's a celebrity; she's got to do better than a movie and meal.

"A place where fantasy becomes reality."

"Wow, a love hotel? At least buy me a drink first."

She chuckles. "I knew you were the right choice."

Again with those cryptic words. What am I heading into here? At least have the decency to tell a blind man where he's headed, even if it's to his demise. She leads me through the halls until we exit through the back. I guess the front entrance would be too high profile. A humble car awaits us on the curb.

"That's your ride?"

"Helps with the camouflage. Get in." I climb into the backseat and catch a glimpse of the driver. He doesn't look like any ordinary chauffeur, with wild blonde spikes grazing the car ceiling. "That's my agent, Cloud. Oh, and he's also my dad." I think she got it backwards.

"Hi there," I greet awkwardly.

He stares at me through the rearview mirror. "Nice meeting you." He didn't even bother to turn around. "Time to get going." He revs up the engine and we're moving.

"Now I can finally take this thing off." She pulls back the hood and I'm blinded by her radiance. She just had to remind again of her true identity. I got so used to talking to a black coat that I forgot that there was an immensely pretty face lurking beneath. She's got Kairi-levels of beauty. I'm getting carsick. I look outside the window but I can still see her reflection. She throws a strand of hair behind her shoulder. "So, what do you think?"

"About what?" I say ignorantly. I'm too busy staring at the streets.

She chuckles quietly. "Most guys can't keep their eyes off me, but I guess you aren't like most guys. Am I so beautiful that you can't look me in the eye?"

"Yup, that's it." May as well give her an easy one to chew on.

"What a safe answer."

"I'm sure you get all kinds of compliments. Didn't think you'd be so vain though."

"Not a single girl in this world doesn't want to be called pretty."

I'll keep that in mind for future reference. "Are you gonna tell me where we're headed?"

"Sure. We're going to work. Studio Starlight, where Chain of Memories is filmed."

"Why are we going there?"

"It's just about the only place I can be myself. I want you to see my real side." I've got plenty of your "real side" in this window reflection right here. The faint reflection is enough to give me butterflies.

"Sounds fun." I actually mean it. You don't get a chance to visit a studio everyday. It doesn't strike me as romantic either, so this trip has all the makings of a platonic outing. As an A-list celebrity, she is clearly out of my league, and any worries on my part are completely delusional.

She has her pick of the litter out of the top crust of Destiny Islands, whether it'll be fellow actors, male models, singers, or other successful young men. That she's giving me the time of day right now is no small miracle. That's what makes me secure in our relationship. It'll never go beyond a mere curiosity. The difference is just too big, and the gap too wide. If, by some miracle of miracles, she took an interest in me, then the public would never stand for it. They'll come out with pitchforks if she was discovered with a low class specimen such as myself.

I never really thought my strategy through when I went in cahoots with Naminé. People who think similarly will often meet in similar circumstances. We were two students trying their hardest to be invisible. Our meeting was highly probable according to the stats. I saw a chance and took it. Now where do I go with it?

To think I'd be this wildly successful with my initial goal: to make friends with girls. It happened too fast though. Instead of making my way through my condition steadily, I leapfrogged the process and ended up right in the thick of it. Being thrown to the lions is never my first approach, but now that I'm here, I just gotta deal.

I always thought that just being with a girl would somehow give me the answer, that the logical steps to solving my problem would arise spontaneously. I'm with a girl right now, sitting with her in the backseat of a car. We're talking, not face-to-face, but we're talking. It's not some curt conversation or something superficial either. It's nothing deep, but it's deeper than most talks I've had with a girl. Am I getting better? Or is my tolerance just rising? All I want to do is vanquish this feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach.

The car stops at a gate and Cloud flashes a badge at the security booth. The gates open and we drive into Studio Starlight. It lives up to its name. There are lights _everywhere_. Everything, from the walls, to the bushes, and signs, are illuminated with multiple light sources. I'd be hard-pressed to find a single shadow here. What a waste of electricity.

"What do you think of the place?" Naminé asks.

"It's bright."

"It sure is." We pull up to a big warehouse. There are people everywhere, running around with props, talking into walkie talkies and cell phones, and looking busy. "Let's head in." I follow her into the studio and arrive at a thriving set. "There are multiple studio buildings on the lot, but this is most frequently used one. It's where we film all the school scenes at."

"Playing tour guide seems to suit you," I remark.

She flashes her teeth. "I'm an actress. Playing anything suits me." That's some supreme confidence she's got there. She leads me around and points out various features, like where the food is, how this and that are done, among other miscellaneous trivia. I noticed something odd about our little tour, and that's how she's practically invisible.

"Why aren't you getting the star treatment? Where's all your handholding assistants?"

She laughs. "They won't recognize me without my make up." It's true that looks completely different than on the show, but surely _some_ of the staff would recognize her. "Wanna check out the set?"

"Sure…" I follow her and look around. "So they don't recognize you but let you walk around as you please?"

"As far as they know, I'm just the agent's daughter."

It's pretty surreal walking through a location you've only seen on TV. This set is undeniably the school in the show; however, it's a little incomplete. Thanks to the magic of camera angles, a lot of seams are carefully hidden. There are missing walls, empty frames, and fake plants. "This is like half a school."

"Nothing like the real thing." She sits down on a bench and knocks on it. "These things hold up just fine though." I sit down beside her, with some distance between us, of course. With all this external stimuli, I haven't had much time to feel sick around her. If the setting were more mundane, I might've had to deal with the full brunt of her beauty. She leans back and looks through the ceiling. "What do you think?"

"I already had a good idea of what to expect, but it's nice to see it for myself."

"I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about me. Did you like it? My frail girl routine?"

A lump forms in my throat and my heart drops. What does she mean by that? This girl is saying some awfully scary things. "What are you talking about?"

"It's fun playing a support role once in a while. I don't get too many of those, considering my status, so I couldn't pass up a chance to make someone else feel like the main character."

My hands are getting sweaty. "Are you talking about me?"

"You're quite gallant, coming to the rescue of a withdrawn girl. Will you be the one to break me out of my shell and expose me to the school? Then everybody will become my friend and we'll all live happily ever after?"

"Of course not." Do you know who I am? I don't possess a single intent of romantic pursuit. "I think you've got the wrong idea about me."

"It's all nonsense, what I've said, isn't it? After all, a girlfriend is the last thing you want." How does she know that? "You're not like most guys. You're not looking for attention. In fact, you do everything to avoid it. Am I right?"

"Who are you?"

She smiles eerily. "I originally came to Destiny High to practice my character and see how a real high school works, but it's not too different from a script. I've seen it all before. There was absolutely nothing interesting to be found. It was all so boring, so routine, so predictable. I honestly had high hopes but what I got was so disappointing…" She turns to me. "Until I met you."

"I feel so special," I answer sarcastically. I gotta be careful here. I don't know where this conversation is headed, but I'm already in dangerous territory.

"Before I met you, I've heard a lot from your loudmouthed cousin, Roxas. He had nothing but praise for you. I would've written him off, but I heard from another source about you, one who was singing a different tune."

Who else could it be? "Rikku."

"Yup. Such a contradiction piqued my curiosity to no end. I just had to find out for myself. Fortunately, you were more alert than I initially gave you credit for. You found me out in no time, and right after I requested transfers into most of your classes too."

"You transferred in on purpose? You would even go that far… What's your stake in all this?" I'm on thin ice. The cracks are everywhere. I'm _this_ close to falling into icy cold water.

"You know better than anyone about how shallow this world is. Childhood friends and lovers, ex-friends and haters, it's all so clichéd, hollow, and empty. That's not a world I want to live in. People lie and deceive everyday, omit and keep their secrets hidden, and never reveal their true selves. If I'm gonna live in a world like that, why not have it all tailored for maximum impact? What does it say about the world when fiction is preferable to reality?"

"That's how it's always been." Who doesn't want fiction? People drown themselves in it, because reality sucks. "You haven't arrived at some amazing truth with that."

"Then why do they accept it so easily? They only feel that way because they never had a choice. Between living a lie, and lying for a living, what would you do? Face it, Sora; this is your true calling."

"What is?"

"Acting. Join my cast, join Chain of Memories, and leave that school behind. Why pretend to have a normal life when dealing with others hurts? Here, you can live comfortably and be alone as much as you want. I'm a fine example of that. You see anybody bothering me? That's what star power can give you."

I burst out laughing. What is this? I'm getting slaughtered here. That's what happens when my opponent is a well-trained actress—one of the best. She's saying some really unpleasant things but her delivery is so silky smooth, it's almost delicious to hear. She's running a damn train on me and I can't say single thing in response. "Please. A normal life is the only thing I want. You can take your star power and shove it. I don't live the way I do because I want to, I do it because I have to. It won't matter once I solve my problems. Don't get full of yourself just because you're a celebrity. I wasn't fooled by your act for even one second."

"Even now, you continue to lie."

"And what part of that is a lie?"

"You wanted a friend, didn't you? Isn't that the reason you agreed to go with me today."

"That's only because _you_ wanted to be friends."

"Oh, you mean the request you weren't fooled by?" Damn it, she got me. "But you know, it doesn't have to be a lie. I can still be your friend. The way I see it, I'm the best possible friend you can have." She must be drunk off her own kool-aid.

"Thanks but no thanks. I already have friends."

"Like Rikku?" She scoffs. "Has it ever occurred to you why a girl who's hated you for so long is now your friend?" How does she know this? I refuse to believe her implication, but I've had my suspicions for awhile. "Do you even remember all the things you've said and done to her? People don't change that easily. I was the one who gave her the idea to become friends with you in the first place."

"And what's the point of that?"

"Revenge. She wanted to pay you back for everything. Even now, she pretends it doesn't hurt, using fake smiles and acting carefree to hide the pain inside. Scars take longer than that to heal. But thanks to me, I've just spoiled that plot of hers. You can thank me later."

You can't be serious. Rikku was only pretending? That's a lie… It has to be! What happened to my progress? What happened to all the work I've put in so far? Don't tell me it was all just one massive waste of time. "You're telling me it was all a ploy? It can't be!"

"I heard it's supposed to hurt, betrayal, that is. Never felt it myself, but now you have some idea of what it's like."

"Shut up. There's no way that—"

"She can be friends with you so easily. Think about it, Sora. You're not an idiot. You knew it; you just didn't want to believe it. Reality is cruel. That's the way it is. People pretend to protect themselves from getting hurt."

"Ridiculous… Has everyone been acting around me this entire time?"

"Not much difference between lies and truth, is there? Even your cousin Roxas isn't all he's cracked up to be."

"What do you know about him?"

"That he has a secret. Everybody has one, and in order to keep it hidden, they all lie. It's a natural human response. At least here, in this studio, where everything is scripted, you can choose your lies."

"What do you know?" I mouth off. "You're just a sheltered star who's never lived a real life!"

"I know plenty… Like about your love sickness." The ice shatters and my whole body goes numb. "You must be thinking, 'How does she know?' Isn't it obvious? Rikku told me. You get sick whenever you're around girls. Because of that, you live the way you do."

Fuck.

FUCK.

FUCK!

No, this is not happening. This can't be… Fuck. She knows. She fucking knows. My vision goes black. I can't see shit. Nothing but black. This must be how death feels like. It's empty, with absolutely nothing, a true void of despair. I'm drowning in it. No breath, no heartbeat, just shit.

Suddenly, I draw a desperate gasp of air into my lungs. My eyes open wide, and I recall my place, on a fake bench beside Naminé. Did I just…lose consciousness? Fuck, I remember now. My hands are shaking and my forehead is moist with sweat. I take a sidelong glance at her and she gives me a cool smile. It's the most evil thing I've seen.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," I reply shakily.

"Don't worry. I won't expose your secret if you join my cast, and as a bonus, I'll even put a stop to Rikku's plan to publically humiliate you at her concert too. Refuse and…I can't say what'll happen next."

And it comes down to blackmail in the end. I've got nothing against. No leverage, no nothing. Her secret identity was just a sham. She couldn't care less about going to school; she made that much clear to me. "Did you intentionally get Rikku to pry that secret out of me? How did you even know I had one to begin with?"

"Haven't I been keeping the biggest secret of them all? It takes a secret keeper to know one. Even if she never found out about it, I have other ways."

"Other ways?" Fuck me. This girl is unbelievable. She's on another level entirely. Before I even walked into this school, she had me at checkmate. Everything was just one giant, elaborate scheme. I never had a chance.

"That's why I'm the best friend for you. As an actress, I can play any role you want. How else are you going to get used to girls?"

To know that much about my condition already… To what lengths did she go through to ensnare me? "Why go through so much effort for me?"

"You vastly overestimate me. I had some time to kill. I just picked you up on a whim."

On a _whim_? My god. This woman is a witch. I've never met a more wicked entity in my entire life. I've just been dancing in her palm this whole time. How naive was I to think that I had everything under control. The stuff I've been doing up until now was nothing, just small potatoes. This, however, this grand machination of hers is on scale unimaginable. It's true what they say: there's always someone better. Always.

"You win." Like I have any choice. There's no way out but to accept.

She smiles victoriously. The damage she dealt to me was so severe, I don't feel sick anymore. No, it's a feeling much worse than that.

It was defeat.

What a fucking shitty feeling.

"And CUT!" a voice yells out. A man comes out from behind the set with a broad smile. "The screen test was perfect. He passes with flying colors. You sure know how to pick em, Stella!"

"I do, don't I?" She winks at me. "Welcome to the show, Sora."

Hah… I see what she meant now… Neither date nor outing. Instead, it was just…

A grand audition.


	29. Crossing the Bridge

**Chapter 29: Crossing the Bridge**

Utter devastation.

It's the only phrase that could describe what happened. I never had a chance. I _thought_ I had control, but it was all just an illusion. She pulled back the curtains and exposed the people around me for what they were: actors, saying the lines that I wanted to hear, all in order to pull me into this fantastic fiction of hers.

Having rendered me speechless, she had the gall to offer me a ride back home. I declined and left the studio to wander the streets, and now I'm lost. I move aimlessly, my mind stuck in a vicious loop of denial. Where do I go from here? What's next? Is there even a "next" for me? Will I be controlled by this sickness for the rest of my life?

I look around, my eyes poring over every detail of this island: the thatched roofs, the earthen colors, and those palm trees with their classic silhouettes against the orange sky. Is this world just one big set? Am I just a bit player in Naminé's grand drama? I l marvel at the sky's vastness and realize my insignificance. I'm just one guy. What can I hope to do against a god? Mere mortals can only speculate as to the intentions of higher powers. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and yell out with all my heart, "**FUUUUUCK!**"

Something about yelling profanities at the top of my lungs does the soul good. Nearby pedestrians pause, but only for a few moments. That's Destiny Islands for you. Nothing fazes them. What was I doing, playing the role of broken man? There's no time for self-pity. Defeat is only an adjustment of perspective. Were I anybody else, perhaps I'd be crawling and begging for mercy from the heavens but I'm no mere mortal—I'm Sora Hikari, and I'd be damned if I let something like this stop me.

But that was one hell of a surprise. Who knew she had that kind of personality? Her utter disregard for the feelings of people around her, the way she fakes her vulnerabilities, all so that she can manipulate them, it's textbook sociopathy. Despite their inhuman qualities, sociopaths are the most likely to succeed. When you think of others only as stepping stones, success is only a matter of who to step on. For actors like Naminé, the ability to switch personalities is either a function of talent or sociopathic tendency.

The world is filled with people like this but only few are puppet masters. Naminé and I… We're cut from the same cloth. We think of others only as pieces for us to play with. "It's for their own good," we think, as we continue to pull their strings and have them dance to our silly songs. It's how we maintain superiority and justify our actions. Freedom is just an illusion. We're all puppets playing for a higher cause. We don't choose what we do; we only pick from the choices given to us.

Now that I've gotten a taste of my own medicine, I realize that I've been an epic asshole. Objectively, I haven't been that bad, but considering the intent behind my actions, I qualify. Actions may define a character, but it's thought that defines action. I understand too well Naminé's frustration with this mundane world. It's all just a game. People are nothing but walking variables to be manipulated. I've been treating everybody like pawns from day one. I believed it was for the purpose of becoming "normal," but there's nothing normal about toying with people for my own amusement.

It doesn't take a hard look in the mirror to see how shitty I've been. All it takes is to meet someone like myself. That's what really ticks me off. As much as I hate to admit it, Naminé and I are too similar. The insults I've hurled at her apply to me as well. I'm just a sheltered idiot who's never lived a real life. I've always lived on my own terms, as a lone wolf and mercenary. Although mercenaries show no loyalty, they are still bound by their contracts, and as it turns out, Naminé was holding mine—literally. Before I left the studio, I was given a contract. If I sign it, I become an official cast member of Chain of Memories. The deadline? Saturday, the day of the concert, the last day I could hold off before Rikku announces my secret to the world.

I thought maybe, just once, I could put my trust in someone. For all of Naminé's scheming, none of it stings as much as the possibility of betrayal. A part of me wants to believe in Rikku, but I can't argue with the evidence. She's the only person who knows my secret. The only way Naminé could possibly know is through her.

Betrayal hurts. Not like my sickness. It's a rather unique pain, right in the chest, like a fire, all consuming, threatening to overwhelm, burning everything I've got. I guess this is why the last circle of hell is reserved for traitors. There's nothing quite as exquisite as the pain of betrayal. It's like your parents telling you they wished you were never born, your teacher saying that you'll never amount to anything, or your only friend telling you that you should just die.

How could she lie through her teeth like that? She told me I was a good person, told me that she would keep my secret, but instead, she betrays me. She made it look so easy and effortless, like breathing, with no hesitation, and not even a single hint of her true intention. I pride myself in being able to read people. Did she really fool me, or was I just fooling myself? Even if it feels like death, I can't cycle through the five stages of grief here. I have to continue as I've always done, with grit and determination.

I've never been in this position before. Sure, I've encountered annoyances in the past, but that's all it was, an annoyance. I've never once felt _real_ pressure, that uncertainty of life, never knowing and always doubting. I've seen others suffer from it. They are at life's mercy. Driven by insecurities, they trip and fall over themselves and wind up making poor decisions. For the first time, I feel the heat. I've been under the weather plenty of times but this kind of heat is different. My health isn't just at stake here; it's my entire way of life and future. I'm hanging by a thread, just teetering on the edge of oblivion.

I've always been above it, that stereotypical malaise brought about by trivial concerns—whether or not I'm liked by others or how to make friends… Before I knew it, I became human. Because of that, I'm experiencing a gamut of emotions that range from shitty to shittier. Now I understand why people do the things they do, like putting your faith in someone, trusting others, and believing in your friends. Despite the damage dealt to me...

I won't submit. She may have won the battle, but the war still wages. As masterful as Naminé has been, she's made one grave miscalculation: she's put me in desperation mode. Humans are no more capable than in times of emergency. The root word for emergency is "emerge," and what emerges from such situations other than miracles?

There is a bridge I've yet to cross. It's nothing but a piece of rope tied from one tree trunk to another. I'd be risking everything just to cross it. I've tried to look for other ways around but there is no other way. I thought I had time but the situation's changed. On my side of the ravine is a man-eating bear and it is extremely hungry. I'm given the hard choice: do I cross the bridge and risk falling to my death, or bide my time and risk being eaten alive?

I have my answer. I won't be devoured; I won't give Naminé the satisfaction. If I'm going out, it'll be on _my_ terms. I probably should've done this a long time ago, but better late than never, right? Somehow, I arrive at my house. Perhaps my feet led me back unconsciously. I won't be coming in, not yet. I eye my true destination: the house next door. I know what you're thinking. Am I crazy? Maybe a little. It's about time I quit playing around and get something done for a change. The only leverage Naminé has on me is my secret. The solution is obvious then: make the secret disappear.

If I can overcome my love sickness before it's revealed, then the announcement will be nothing more than a bad joke. The worst kind of news is old news; it doesn't matter if it was once true. The present is fleeting and it cares not for the past. I always knew my condition was related to Kairi somehow, but I was afraid to cross that bridge. If I can figure out the source of my trauma, then I'll be one step closer to finding the cure. I have no excuse. It's time to meet my maker.

I knock on the door to the Uchida household. It opens to reveal a surprise guest, a red-haired woman dressed in a sharp suit. Cissnei Uchida, Kairi's mother, was supposed to be working overseas, at least according to Reno. What's she doing here?

"Surprised to see me? I'm here just for today. I'm on a small business trip, so I'll be out of your hair soon enough," she informs. "I'll be leaving tomorrow, but I couldn't pass up a chance to see my daughter. You wouldn't happen to be thinking the same thing, are you?" Actually, I am. Fools do often rush in where angels fear to tread, and even though I'm no angel, my fear is just the same.

"Uh…" My nerves are frayed and frazzled. When my mind is set, I don't waver. I came to this conclusion after much thinking. I can't be getting cold feet. "Yeah. I am." The words are hard to spit out. To think Naminé could've broken me like this... Haven't I steeled my resolve? I _have_ to do this.

"Do you want me to call her down?" she offers.

"No, I'll come up."

"Don't get in too much trouble," she warns playfully. She steps aside to let me in. "Her room's the first one on the left, if you don't know already." Of course I know, because it's right across from mine.

"Excuse me then." I walk in and see the stairs. They appear unusually high and wide. I'm getting vertigo just looking at it. Last chance to bail… Ha. Like I have a choice. Being deprived of choices sucks but it makes things easy. I can only move forward. It's do or die time. I climb the stairs and make a left to find her door. This is it. Kairi's room. I rap it lightly with my knuckles.

"Who is it?" the occupant asks. That sweet heavenly voice. It's thick, like syrup, and almost suffocating. My body is telling me: GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, but the mind knows better. I'm prepared to do what is necessary, even if it costs me my life.

I gulp. "It's me, Sora."

"Is it?" she says excitedly. "Let me get the door." My hands clamp on to the knob tightly. She tries to open it to no avail. "Huh?"

"Don't. It's better this way. Let's just talk through the door." This was the reason I wanted to come up. Just like the other day, I wanted a barrier between us. My knees are buckling and my fingers are cramping just from her voice. If I saw her, it'll be the end of me. "Please?"

"Okay…" She sounds disappointed.

I let out a breath. So she can be reasonable sometimes. Good to know. I breathe in deeply. "I have something important to tell you."

"You can't tell me face-to-face?"

Like last time, "No."

"Then what is it?"

Talk about nerve wracking. Is this that feeling—trepidation, fear, and uncertainty? I think I owe Hayner an apology. It's too easy to call it from the sidelines, but when it's my turn to go up to bat, the pressure is more than palpable. My muscles are screaming and my heart is begging for release, pounding against my ribcage. Confrontation is scary. I wouldn't be breaking a sweat if this was any other girl, but this is Kairi, my personal harbinger of doom, who can destroy me with a mere glance. When one stands before a goddess, what can I do but bow? I fall to my knees out of fatigue.

"I…" Why is this so hard to say? I get sick. Girls make me sick! Just say it!

"Yes…?" She's killing me every time she opens her mouth. Each word is a dagger into my back, and her breathing is the twisting of the blade. I don't have the heart to continue. I think I'm gonna pass out right here.

"I think I'm going to be sick…" I cough out.

"What? Right now?" she yelps, alarmed.

The door knob turns but I grip it tightly with both hands. "NO, I'm fine!" I'm seriously gonna die here. The knob is rattling off its screws. I press upon it all my strength, both physical and mental. I have to hurry this up before I disintegrate into a puddle of goo. "It's just…"

"It's just…?"

"It's just—I mean, what I'm trying to say is…"

"What?"

"I just wanted to say that—" Son of a bitch, goddamned piece of—JUST. FUCKING. SAY IT ALREADY! "—**YOU MAKE ME SICK!**"

Dead silence.

My hand shoots to my mouth immediately.

I just blew a gasket. They didn't hear that from downstairs, did they? Wait, who cares about that? I just exploded right in front of her! This is not good. Of all the things to say—I say it like that? I just signed, sealed, and delivered my own death warrant. This must be it, that thirty second countdown before execution. In just a few moments, 2000 volts will course through my body and my heart will stop—

"I…make you sick?" She says it so innocently, it almost makes me laugh. Are you telling me you don't already know? You're god! Don't feign ignorance! You know full well about the effect you have on me! I can't keep it inside anymore. I have to—

"Yes, that's right. You make me sick. Every time I see you, the only thing I want to do is throw up. Hell, it's the only thing I _can_ do. Whether it's seeing you, hearing your voice, or feeling your touch, it makes me wanna curl up and die. You make me feel more miserable than anything in this world." Oh great, I've totally lost it. I broke the valve and I can't stop it anymore. It's coming out like a bad case of diarrhea. "Even the thought of you makes me nauseous. My stomach cramps, my limbs get numb, my knees so weak that I can barely stand. I get horrible headaches, white flashes, it's like I'm at death's doorstep every moment I'm with you. Thanks to you, I've already thrown up more times than I can count. The lining of my esophagus has already gone to shit. Seeing you, being with you, is the most horrible physical affliction that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy even if they killed my whole family and shot my dog. The pain you give me is worse than a bullet ant bite, worse than a jellyfish sting—it is the closest one can reach unconsciousness through sheer overload of sensory pain without actually dying." I'm gasping for breath, taking in deep droughts to cool my head. I'm not sure I'm even talking to her anymore. Is this real? Am I dreaming? Have I already passed out and this is all just in my head? She hasn't said anything. Maybe this _is_ my imagination. Guess it wouldn't hurt to say a little more. "That's why… You're the only one I can go to right now." She remains silent. I suppose after an outburst like that, there's nothing to be said. You'd think I'd feel better after letting it all out, but I feel even worse. I can't even keep my head up anymore. "I think I'll…go leave now."

"Wait."

Oh, she's still there. That's a good sign… I think. Who am I fooling? There's no way this can be a good sign. I close my eyes in anticipation of a lashing the likes of which the world has never seen. I'm about to crucified. I must make an offering to appease her wrath! "If-if it's any consolation, it's not just you. Every girl makes me sick. But out of all the girls I know, you're the worst."

"I see…" I detect a small hint of relief. Did she accept my humble offering? "Sorry, I never knew, and after all that I've done to you, I… I'm sorry."

What? Let me repeat that: WHAT? Why's she apologizing to me? Is this some kind of reverse psychology? This is a test, isn't it? Oh man, what's the right answer here? What do I say? "If anyone should apologize, it's me. I just told you…a lot of terrible things actually."

She chuckles. She _actually_ chuckles. I'm getting the shivers here. "I admit it's the first time I've heard someone go off on me like that, but it's not like you were trying to hurt me. That's just the truth, isn't it?"

"And the truth hurts." I feel… Well, I don't feel any better. I'm still on my knees, greasing her poor doorknob with my palm sweat, and my head is burning so hot, I can see the steam coming out of my ears. "You're not gonna use it against me?"

"Why would I?" She's offended. I don't get her. Hasn't that been her whole game, to torture me with pokes of death?

"I don't know... Up until now, you've had a mean streak," I reply.

"You mean my teasing? I was just…trying to get closer to you, that's all." And why would you want to do that? "You don't think I was out to get you, did you?"

"Every other girl in my life is gunning for my throat. What's one more to the collection?" I can see why some may consider girls deceptive, wretched, little creatures. I've been on the receiving end of their evils since time immemorial.

"If girls make you so sick, then why are you always with them?" I swear I hear jealousy. That can't be right.

"It's because I'm trying to overcome my condition."

"Yet, the only one you avoid is me." Is she pissed? What does this mean? Tell me, oh sweet, merciful god!

"When you put it that, it doesn't make any sense." Haven't I explained plenty of times why I can't approach her? It's because… I forgot, but I'm sure when I explained it earlier, it made perfect sense. No, that's not right. I'm just lying to myself again. In reality, I was just running in circles and avoiding confrontation. I really am a coward. "Why would you care? I'm just your next door neighbor."

I hear a soft thud on the other side. Her shadow peeks out from below the door. She must be leaning against it. "It must've taken a lot to tell me that." A lot? No, it took more than that.

"It took everything. You don't know how hard it was for me." Even I couldn't anticipate how draining this ordeal has been. Lightning's hell laps have nothing on this.

"That's more guts than I'll ever have," she says plainly. "Truth is… I also have something to confess."

My ears perk up. "You do?" I mean, of course you do! I've suspected this for quite some time.

"It's only fair, and this concerns you too. As a matter of fact, this is the reason why I've wanted us to be friends in the first place."

"What is it?" I ask quickly. I want to know. I _need_ to know. Just as much as I needed to tell her my secret, I needed to hear hers too. The significance of this moment is not lost on me. Even though I'm barely holding on to my consciousness, I have enough reasoning capacity to know that this will probably be the most important revelation I will ever hear in my life. My heart slows down to a crawl and my lungs rapidly eat up any remaining oxygen left over because I've already stopped breathing.

"I have monophobia."

My hands slip off the doorknob and my forehead hits the door. "OW!"

"What was that? Are you okay?"

I squeeze the knob again just in time. "Don't worry about me," I excuse quickly. "I was just a little surprised." My body remembers how to function and I start breathing again. So that's it… Monophobia. I've heard of it before. How could I not when my bedtime stories consisted of passages from the DSM-IV, the encyclopedia of all officially recognized mental disorders? Monophobia is fear of being alone.

And it all falls into place. Why she's so popular and why's she always surrounded by people, it's because she's afraid of being alone. She makes an embarrassed laugh. "Without others, I'm crippled by anxiety. I've had this far as long as I can remember. No matter where I go or who I'm with, I always feel like I'm going to be abandoned, that everybody will just disappear the next second. Have you ever been lost as a kid? Like in a mall or something? I feel like that everyday. Not knowing whether I'd see my parents again, see home again, almost as if everything was just a bad dream." I haven't been the only one who's suffering. There are others like myself, like dad, mom, and now Kairi. We suffer silently, keep our secrets hidden, and deceive others to keep the peace. "I hate it. It never feels like the people around me are _real_. I can never tell what they're thinking. I don't want to be alone. Not ever. That's why I decided to make as many friends as I could. I read everything I could get my hands on. Magazines, websites, books—I just wanted to be popular."

"I'd say you've been pretty successful."

"Tch, yeah, I have, haven't I?" She sounds miserable. "The more friends I made, the more alone I felt. Just because they're there doesn't mean they're _really_ there. I wanted to tell someone about my monophobia but… I was always afraid that they'd leave me because of it. I know it's stupid but I couldn't… I didn't want them to know. I was afraid to give anybody an excuse to leave me." Who has it worse, I wonder? I mean, comparing mental disorders is a pretty shitty thing to compete about, but which one of us has suffered more? "The more people I became friends with, the more meaningless it felt. They tell you 'hi' when they see you, leave messages on your homepage, and send you texts everyday, but that's all it is. They're no different than objects. They're just there. And I can't do anything except smile and pretend that everything is alright." She smiles and grins; I frown and scowl—two sides of the same coin. "Did you know, Sora, that a smile is the most devious thing in this world? As long as you smile, people think everything's fine. It's a stupid, little, preposterous thing. What can a smile do? It's just an empty expression. Nobody knows. They never know. They can't know. Because I don't want them to, but I want them to. I hate it, this condition of mine..."

She's just like me. Perhaps it's even worse. My harbinger of doom was nothing more than a lonely girl. It'd be comical if it wasn't so serious. Mental disorders aren't things to laugh at. "You've had it bad. I can't imagine." Quite frankly, I _don't_ want to imagine. I've had problems enough as it is. "I had no idea."

"I can say the same for you. Aren't we both pretty fucked up?"

"Amen." Truer words have never been spoken. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Kairi turned out to be mortal like the rest of us. All this time, I've put her on a pedestal as some god of destruction. In truth, the only thing destroying us was ourselves.

"There are only a few people who make me feel safe and sound," she says. "As long as I'm with them, I don't feel anxious. The first are my parents, and the second is… You."

I finally let go of the doorknob. That was the last piece of the puzzle, the last letter in hangman, the final clue in a murder mystery—everything's that happened—all of it—makes sense now. Upside down is right side up, left is righted, and forward actually goes forward. Everything's stopped spinning. Everything I've done and everything she's done was just an elaborate dance of sick minds. I turn myself around and lean against the door. "That's why you were always chasing after me."

"Yes…" she admitted. "I knew from the very first moment I saw you that we were connected somehow. I've never felt so secure meeting someone for the first time. I don't believe in fate but… I know we've met before, because… For whatever reason, you make me feel safe. Whenever I see you, whenever I hear your voice, just knowing that you're there, makes me feel normal—happy even. Even now, I feel more comfortable than ever."

I'm getting goosebumps. Is this sympathy, empathy, some kind of thy? "Not that would I know but… This kind of sounds like a confession."

"A confession? It's funny. Love is all my friends talk about, but I have no idea what it's like. With my monophobia, it's impossible for me to have a boyfriend. I'd be afraid he'd leave me the whole time." Just like me, romance was only a pipe dream for her. Our circumstances didn't allow for something so ideal.

"I can relate. The day I kiss a girl is probably the day I die."

She laughs softly. "When I first saw you, I wanted—_needed_ you to be my friend. I used every trick in the book but none of it worked. I tried my best but you always turned away, averted your gaze, and ran. It was a nightmare, really. The one person I wanted to be my friend was already trying to abandon me. My worst fears were coming true." Her voice starts to crack. "At that point, it didn't matter whether you were my friend or enemy. I just wanted to be close to you. Whether you hated me, liked me… As long as you were nearby, I could feel at ease." She barely contains a sniffle.

She's the most popular girl in school and yet, she's the loneliest one there. It's because she's lonely that she's the most popular girl in school. I can feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her worries resemble mine so strongly I can't help but want to lend a shoulder. But I can't. That'll kill me too. If it took my all to spill my guts, what about her? Isn't it scarier? I'm her one source of comfort outside her parents. Isn't she afraid that I'd run away after hearing this? "Are you afraid?"

"More than anything."

I've never heard anything more honest or terrible in my life. My heart drops and I find something unexpected inside. "_Don't worry, I won't leave you._" The words leave my mouth before I realize it.

She gasps. "Sora, can I... Ask you a question?"

"Y-yeah." What is this feeling? It's happening again, but it's never been this strong. It's almost like... I'm floating.

"Do you…" She trails off, afraid to continue.

"Do I what?"

"…hate me?" This is probably the most important question she's ever asked. Her life hinges on my answer. I lean back and look at the ceiling. To be honest? I hate the way she makes me feel, I hate the way she makes me act, but herself?

"No. I don't hate you."

"Thank god." She laughs. It's different this time. It's the most genuine laugh I've ever heard from her. And you know what? It doesn't make me sick. Instead, I feel…warm. "When you told me how I made you sick, I was really scared there. The more you explained it though, the more it finally made sense. It actually made me a little happy." I'm glad someone enjoys my suffering. Not.

"Nothing happy about it."

"I know, but still… I'm relieved. If you don't hate me, does that mean… You like me?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here." She giggles. I let out a long sigh. How ridiculous is this? I get sick when I'm close to her and she feels safe when she's close to me. Fate's got one twisted sense of humor. Of course, I don't believe in fate, only cause and effect. We've both been living with shitty effects so far, it's time to find the cause. "Do you believe in coincidence?"

"Coincidence is nothing more than statistical probability." I smile at the answer. Spoken like a true victim of mental debilitation "Our conditions are linked together. That's why we've been trying to dig up details on each other."

"In our own way, we've been chasing after the same thing: an answer for our condition." I always thought it was a race between us, but as it turned out, our legs were tied together. It's a three-legged race and the finish line lies somewhere in our past.

"In that case, do you think we can…start over? A fresh start, not as fake friends, but…as real friends." She realizes how ludicrous her request was. "Never mind. I don't even know what it means to be a real friend." Me neither. But after all I've gone through, I think I have an idea.

"A real friend," I say suddenly, "is someone you can trust, someone who would never betray you, someone who helps when you're in trouble—simply put: someone you can rely on." The definition has always eluded me until now. I think I finally understand why friends are so important. "A true friend is someone who never abandons you."

"Someone who never abandons me?" I knew that line would have particular resonance for her.

That's right. What I need right now is… "Can I ask you for a favor, Kairi?"

"Anything."

"Can I put my trust in you?" I know it might be sudden, especially after having my trust broken by Rikku and Naminé, but that's exactly why I have to do this. It's scary, putting my life in another person's hands, but knowing that there's someone there for me, even if she makes me wanna die, is something I desperately need right now. I can't do this alone. I need someone on my side. I've alienated all the people around me. She's the only one left standing. Besides, after all she's said to me, it'll be cruel to abandon her. This is my chance to turn over a new leaf.

"Yes." I believe her. Not because I have to, but because I _want_ to. After we've exchanged our guts like this, how can we not rely on each other? With every one of her words, I can feel her sincerity. Maybe it's all in my mind, but I'm ready to believe. We're bound to each other now. Sorry, Naminé, but this contract supersedes yours. "But only if you do me one favor in return."

"And what's that?"

"_Will you be my friend?_" There's no such thing as coincidence. Only statistical correlation. The probability of our connection has just went from 99.9% to 100% with that question. "I've said this to you before, haven't I?"

"You have." And it comes back to me, my answer from long ago. "Do you remember my answer?"

"_Of course_."

Life can be described as a series of bridges. Some of them easy and some of them hard to cross. Every once in a while, we hit a chasm so wide it doesn't seem possible. Even if you can't see it, there is always a bridge. It may be flimsy, but it's there, and no matter how many bridges we've crossed, it will be scary, risky, and possibly dangerous. We may want to forget about it and find easier bridges to cross, but there is something waiting for us on the other side. Do we really want to leave it behind? I didn't find the answer to my problem after crossing this bridge, not yet anyways, but I did find something just as important.

A true friend.

"_Don't worry._ _I won't leave you._"


	30. The Next Step

**Chapter 30: The Next Step**

Mutually assured destruction.

It's the principle that maintains peace when opposing sides can destroy each other—and the rest of the world—a thousand times over. To avoid such an apocalyptic outcome, we trust that nobody pulls the trigger since everybody's got each other at gunpoint.

As sad as it is to say, this is the foundation for our friendship. Kairi can't betray me because I can just easily do the same to her—assuming that her monophobia is real. I've given thought to the possibility that it's just an elaborate ruse, but there's no reason to discard Occam's razor for something more insidious. The proof, they say, is in the pudding, even if the pudding is the slightly yellowish chunky yolk of my puke. The body don't lie, and mine tells me its the truth.

"I won't betray you, as long you don't betray me," she says.

I was supposed to turn over a new leaf and renew my faith in humanity's inherent goodness, but change takes time. Besides, my cynical-cum-pragmatic outlook on life has served me well. Before I fully commit to cautious optimism, I'm gonna have to see some results first. "That goes without saying."

"I don't believe in nonverbal agreements. A little confirmation goes a long way. Are we officially friends now?"

"Yeah—just don't ask me for a handshake, I'd die before I can let go."

"So what now?" With our friendship firmly established, the next logical step is to pool our resources together and figure out the mystery surrounding our past.

"We work together, exchange notes, and plan our next move," I explain. "But since I'm exhausted to hell, let's continue this tomorrow." I've been hit with back-to-back revelations. My head is spinning, my body is limp, and my eyes are blurry. I deserve a rest.

"Already?" I almost forgot my presence soothes her. I want to get out here as quickly as possible but she wants me to stay for the same reasons. Don't tell me it's gonna be a game of tug-of-war every time we get together? "Then before you go, answer me one thing: what forced you to do this?"

"I got tired of keeping it inside?"

"Bullshit." I knew that wouldn't work. Worth a shot at least. "You were fine pretending for the past week. Something must've happened. Spill it." I'm lucky to have found someone who matches my wavelength, but it's annoying how dialed in she is. Fucked up minds think alike.

"It's kind of a long story…"

"You say it like it's a problem for me." It is for me.

"It can wait until tomorrow." I push myself up from the floor.

"If you do, I'll open the door and grab you." The knob rattles and panic strikes me.

"Relax, calm down!" I shout, gripping the knob. This is why I didn't want to tell her the truth. She's already abusing her powers over me!

"You don't have to be so scared. I was just gonna poke you." If she said she was gonna stab me in the heart, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"You're threatening my life here."

"Would a poke seriously kill you?"

"I don't know and I don't want to know." I'm getting nervous just thinking about it. Let's just get this over with already. "Now where do I start…? Basically, somebody is trying to blackmail me with my secret. Can I go now?"

"No." I figured as much. "That doesn't tell me anything. Who's this somebody? And what do they want with you?"

"You won't believe me if I answered your first question, and I have no idea about your second."

"You're really trying your hardest to dodge me, aren't you?" She pounds the door, jolting me out of my skin. "You're gonna have to try harder than that."

"My god, woman. I want to live to see the next day, okay? Stop doing that!"

"If you'd given me a proper answer when I asked the first time, I wouldn't have to resort to this." The door suddenly opens, pushing me forward. In a dash of panic, I throw my back into it, closing it shut.

"Fine, I got it!" She's merciless. I'm starting to have regrets about my confession now. "I thought we were supposed to be friends?"

"This is what friends do."

I admit, I don't have much experience in friendship, but I'm sure cruel and unusual punishment doesn't factor into it. "In that case, I retract our friendship."

"Is it so hard to just tell me? I already know your secret. I can't imagine it being much worse than that."

Then you have a very small imagination, indeed. I wait a few moments for my body to calm down. My EKG's still posting erratic results. "The person blackmailing me is Stella Star—and yes, I'm talking about the very same Stella Star from Chain of Memories. As for what she's blackmailing about, she wants me to join the cast of her show."

"You're kidding," she deadpans.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"Hold up. I need some more background here. If you say it like that, who's gonna believe you?" It's all in the interest of time. The finer details don't matter. "First of all, how did you two even meet?"

"At school."

"How come I've never seen her?"

"She's gag enrolled, which is how high profile students attend without being recognized. Her real name is Naminé. With her disguises and pseudonyms, she's managed to slip under the radar."

"You sure gynophobia's your only problem? You might wanna add paranoid delusions to that list."

"Okay, first of all, it's not gynophobia. It's love sickness—"

"And I'm just a little lonely."

"—and second of all, fuck you. I'm leaving."

"My, aren't we touchy today." This bitch— "Lighten up a little. I'm just joking."

"Get a sense of humor first." I thought with both our secrets on the table, she'd tighten up a little, instead, she got loose. "For a monophobe, you sure are taking it easy."

"It's _because_ I'm a monophobe that I can take it easy, especially since I'm with you." Great, I hold the key to unleashing her true irritating self. "I've always been acting outside. I've learned to move and speak in certain ways. With the right tone, the right demeanor, you can maximize your exposure, catch people's attention, and gain their admiration." Sounds like she's been reading the same books I did, except she followed them to a T. "But it's not really me. You can call it a distraction. I focus on refining my image and I can keep the anxiety at bay. Isn't it the same for you?"

I see what she means. I maintain minimal exposure for the sake of my health. "Maybe… Wait, stop changing the subject. I've already answered your question." She's trying hard to keep me here with her digressions. Let me go!

"I'm still missing a lot of detail. How exactly is she blackmailing you?"

There's no secret to blackmail, except for the one you use to blackmail people with. Do the particulars matter? Blackmail is blackmail! "She'll have my secret exposed if I don't join her cast. To keep that from happening, I'll have to render her leverage obsolete by curing my love sickness."

"And you think the answer lies in our past?"

"I know it does. I have no doubt a traumatic experience is responsible for everything. If I find out what it is, then I can say goodbye to this problem." How many times do I have to repeat this? I find the source and I find the solution.

"I don't think it'll be that easy," she says skeptically. "What happens if you find out and nothing changes?" Then I'm 100% fucked.

"It'll change." It has to. If it doesn't, then there's no point in living anymore. Okay, I'm getting overdramatic—I won't kill myself, but life is gonna reach crazy levels of inconvenience. Believe it or not, I'd like to fall in love someday, marry a nice girl, and have a kid or two—which is currently impossible. I'm missing out on my key development years here! I've only gotten this far because I've kept my condition under wraps. If it gets out, all my progress will be thrown out the window. If I can't control the environment, I can no longer improve at my own rate. "I can't allow my secret to be revealed."

"If your secret's so important, why not just join her cast?"

"Are you crazy—never mind, don't answer that—that's even worse than having my secret exposed. The attention will kill me. I'm not like you. I don't need the extra popularity."

"You're right," she says, chuckling. "I'd jump on an opportunity like that in a heartbeat."

"How much more popular do you need to be? You're already set to appear on Destiny High Times."

"There's no such thing as being too popular."

"I beg to differ."

"If she wants you to join the cast, then that must mean you have a contract. Do you have a deadline?"

She didn't issue a hard date, but considering Rikku's concert, it's probably "Saturday."

"That's in two days. You really think you can solve the past in just two days?"

I know it's a stretch, but "As long as the probability isn't 0%..."

"Not too confident there."

"Cooperating with you should increase my chances though." Hopefully.

"I'm glad you think so highly of me, but I can't work miracles for you."

"Then what are you good for, besides making me sick?"

"Don't be like that. I have lots of friends. They can help."

"Weren't you talking about how they're not _really_ your friends ten minutes ago?"

"They're still useful to have around." And _I'm_ the manipulative jerk? She's the same as me, except she's got an army of pawns at her disposal! "How's she gonna reveal your secret anyways? Through the grapevine? Announce it on public television?"

"Rikku," I answer bitterly.

"I thought you two were friends?"

"I did too, but I'm not the only pretender out there. She and the Gullwings are holding a concert on Saturday. I'm guessing she'll sing a shitty song about me and reveal my secret in the process."

"Seems like you're in a tough spot."

"If I sign the contract, Naminé said she'll stop Rikku from spilling my secret."

"And you believe her? Are Rikku and Naminé are working together?"

"Probably not." Naminé's like me; she likes to operate from behind the scenes. She probably caught wind of Rikku's plans and decided to take advantage of it—the opportunistic bitch. "It's a coincidence, most likely."

"Then what makes you so sure Rikku will reveal your secret? Naminé could be pulling a fast one on you." I've thought of that—and a whole lot more. I've countered every single possible positive scenario for me.

"You don't bluff unless you have something."

"Or she read your tell."

"I've only revealed my secret to one other person besides you, and that's Rikku. The next day, Naminé magically finds out my secret. What does that tell you?"

"I follow you, but I'm not sure that's necessarily the case. You don't make as many friends as I do without making a few enemies along the way. I've got a keen sense for this kind of stuff. My gut instinct tells me that Rikku isn't that kind of person."

I can't base my decision on something as flimsy as gut instinct—although, research has shown that gut instinct is a surprisingly effective heuristic. It's a form of decision-making that utilizes subconscious cues, and in some ways, it's better than a lengthy deliberative process. "Have you even met her?"

"I can tell at a glance. But what I'm trying to say is, instead of relying on Naminé to stop Rikku, why don't you just stop her yourself?" It's in Naminé's best interest that Rikku _doesn't_ reveal my secret. As long as she holds it, she can keep me under her thumb. That means if I stop Rikku, I can buy myself time.

"That's…a possibility." I only have to satisfy one of two conditions. The first: cure my love sickness. This renders everything else moot. The second conditon: keep my secret from being revealed so that I can work on the first. Kairi's solutions are simply band aids. "But that doesn't address the core problem here."

"If she wants you to sign the contract…" Is she cooking up something useful? "I have an idea. Why don't you join Destiny High Times instead?" Forget I asked.

"Are you stupid? I'll be in the same boat as if I joined Chain of Memories!"

"Do you have a choice? Look, I'm only signed on for one episode, but I noticed that the contract had stipulations about appearances in other shows. They hold my exclusive rights for the one week the episode is aired. Couldn't you do the same, but extend the timeframe beyond the air date?"

"How does that stop Rikku from revealing my secret?"

"First, you sign the contract for Destiny High Times, and then you sign the contract for Chain of Memories. If you hand it back, Naminé will stop Rikku, right? But when it turns out that her contract is void, you're off the hook!"

It sounds perfect, except—"That means I have to show up for Riku's little game." Isn't that why I got Roxas to fill in for me? "Sorry, but I'm have no intention of showing up on television in any shape or form—even as an background extra."

"It's the lesser of two evils. Show up for one episode or become a permanent cast member of Destiny Island's most popular show?"

"Aren't you just trying to rope into your scheme? I'm not an idiot."

"Was I that obvious?" She giggles innocently. "At least think about it." How about no? Why is everybody hell bent on manipulating me? Just leave me alone and everybody's none the wiser.

"You said you already signed on to Destiny High Times, I assume Riku has too. Has anybody else joined?"

"Nope. We're all waiting on you."

"What about Roxas?"

"What about him?" Damn that Laguna. The bastard really means it. Am I gonna have to join after all? I can't exactly force Roxas into it either, not with my heel face turn.

"Never mind," I excuse. "I appreciate your ideas, but let's just concentrate on the past. Forget everything else. There's a lot of things I want to ask you and vice versa, but I'm at my limit here. Can I leave now?"

"Just…one more thing." At least she sounds apologetic about it.

"_What?_" I let out, exasperated.

"Can I see your face?"

"What are you—"

"You don't have to do anything, I just—you can close your eyes if you want. I just want to see you. That's all." That's desperation if I ever heard it. I'd be a cruel to turn her down. Ugh, couldn't I have taken my vow of change a little later? As long as I keep my eyes closed, I should be fine.

"As long as you don't do anything else," I warn.

"I won't." I stand up and my knees buckle. I've been sitting for so long my legs have atrophied. I hold on to the wall for support. "Are you ready?"

I close my eyes. "Make it quick." The door opens and a rush of air hits my face. My life hangs by a thread. If I open my eyes, I will die. My heart is beating furiously, sweat is collecting on my forehead, and I'm using every ounce of my strength to stay standing. Then I feel it. Her breath on my face. I almost black out. "You're not...going to...kiss me, are you?"

I feel her draw back sharply. "Of course not!"

I sigh in relief. "Then why were you so close?"

"It's just your imagination. You've got your eyes closed after all." Taking advantage of my handicap—what a devious girl.

"Satisfied?"

"Wait just a moment." _Snap_. "Okay, you can go now."

"Did you just take a picture of me?" The door shuts in my face, prompting my eyes open. Safe. That was like being blindfolded with a gun pointed at my face. I almost kissed my life goodbye there.

"So what if I did?"

"I'm out of here."

"Oh, when you get back to your room, can you do me a favor and open up your blinds?"

I don't like the sound of this. "Why?"

"Seeing you makes me sleep easier." _That's_ the reason why she's left herself wide open like that?

I shiver uncontrollably. "Quit stalking me, you voyeur." Another thought strikes me. "Why have you closed your blinds lately then?"

"Oh that?" She laughs nervously. "That's just because… It's nothing."

"If you tell me, I'll leave my blinds open all you want."

"That's a dirty trick." Like you haven't been doing the same to me? "Fine. It's that cat."

"You mean Tabby?"

"Is that what you call it?"

"You have ailurophobia too?"

"Cats make me nervous, okay?" Tabby, you've just become 100% more awesome in my book. "You better not be thinking of using that against me."

"I wouldn't dare," I tease.

"Now that I've told you, you better keep your promise." Of course I will. I'll leave my blinds open as much as she wants, especially if Tabby's visiting.

"Don't worry about it." I walk off before she can reply. I've stuck around longer than I expected. I don't know if I can make it to my house without collapsing. It takes me a while to get down the stairs. I don't want to take a nasty spill.

"You're leaving?" Ms. Uchida asks, showing up at the front door.

"Yeah."

She gives me a smile. "Glad to see you two made up."

"Made up?"

"She was telling me earlier about how distant you two have been."

Sure. That sounds about right. Seriously, what the hell has she been telling everyone else? This is how misunderstandings happen. "Everything's just peachy."

"I won't be seeing you for awhile. Can I ask you to do something for me while I'm gone?" Like daughter like mother. What's up with all these favors? "Keep her company. She gets a little lonely sometimes." That's an understatement.

"I will." I reach for the front door. "Good night, Ms. Uchida."

"Good night."

Finally, fresh air. I take a deep breath and the night chill descends on my shoulders. I cross my arms in a vain attempt to keep warm. I stumble across the lawn to my own. Never has twenty feet seem so far. As if Lightning's daily laps weren't enough, I had to walk home all the way from Studio Starlight in addition to the mental toll inflicted by confronting two certifiably insane girls. I'm dead on my feet. I have no regrets. I made the correct decision. Meeting with Kairi has already paid off with the solutions she's offered, even if they all suck ass. Good ideas usually rise from bad ones. We're on the right track.

I enter my home and I hear an interesting sound. Roxas is practicing his guitar upstairs. What has he been up to anyways? I climb the stairs and open the door to his room. "Yo."

He's sitting on bed with the guitar on his lap. He looks up and brightens instantly. "Oh, hey! What's going on?"

"Getting back into the swing of things?"

"Yeah. I've been rusty, but it's coming back to me." I recall Xion and Naminé's words. Everybody's got secrets. That's certainly been the case lately, but… Surely, there are people who are as straightforward as they appear? There's more variety in people than that. I refuse to believe that everybody has a conniving side hidden within. Life would be a lot simpler if people were the same. The world needs simpletons.

"How would you feel about being on TV?" I'm gauging his interest in stardom. For someone like him, it's a perfect fit. Aren't his attempts to play up my status a cry for personal attention? If he jumps into showbiz, I will no longer be necessary, and he can finally leave me the hell alone.

He grimaces. "I'd rather not."

I had a feeling he'd say that. Call it gut instinct. Or maybe it's just a trend. Nothing ever goes my way. "Why not? It'll be your chance to grab the spotlight." And then you can stop riding my coattails.

He smiles weakly. "I'm not good with attention." Could've fooled me. Thanks to all the noise you've made, all eyes are on me. Now that I think about it, everything's your fault!

"Does it have something to do with your past?" He tenses up. I may have just hit a dead end. He averts his gaze and his grip on the guitar tightens. He's clammed up. When I want him to talk, he doesn't, and when I want him to shut up, he doesn't. Sometimes, I think he was put on this world for the sole purpose of pissing me off. I won't get anywhere like this.

"Forget I said anything."

"Mr. Loire approached me the other day," he says suddenly.

"He did?"

"He wanted me to convince you to join Destiny High Times." They never had any intention of signing Roxas, did they? "I think you should do it. Everybody will get to see how awesome you really are. And besides, you and Kairi are perfect for each other."

That came out of left field. "What makes you say that?"

"You're the only one she acts different around."

I pause. "I hadn't noticed." That's the truth. Probably because I was too damn busy trying to preserve my health. I have no idea how she acts when I'm _not_ around. Either Roxas is more perceptive than I thought, or it was just _that_ obvious. "But what about you? I thought you liked her?"

"I wanted to talk to you about that." He puts the guitar down and folds his hands. "I knew I didn't have a chance to begin with. It was just…wishful thinking." He falls back on the bed. "Kairi's pretty, with a good personality, but it's not like I really liked her or anything. I was just going with the flow."

Can't really argue with that. She's made it so that all good things in life flow through her. Too bad it doesn't matter how hard she tries. In the end, she's empty. Unless I'm there with her. "So you're just gonna give up?"

"I'm not giving up. It's just—there's someone else."

Someone else? "Don't tell me it's—"

"Xion."

Goddammit, Roxas. You boneheaded idiot. "Are you serious?"

"I am. Unlike Kairi, I can be myself around her. She understands me, you know?" No, I don't know, because you're never been _yourself_ around me.

The light of revelation hits me. It's pure conjecture, but the scenario is very plausible given their behavior. I may be seeing a repeat before my very eyes. This is just my theory, but I think Riku and Xion were friends before. Call it the Hayner-Olette scenario, except the feeling wasn't mutual. My guess? Riku was the victim. Xion wanted to remain friends and rejected his advances. And as we all know, getting friendzoned has a way of turning perfectly regular guys into complete jerks. Hence, the birth of playboy Riku.

If Roxas pursued this thread any further, it'll only be a world of pain for both of them. As amusing as it is to entertain the thought of playboy Roxas, he'll probably take it a lot harder than Riku. I can't imagine what he'd do as a result.

"She's not looking for a relationship," I caution.

"I know, that's why I'm asking you for help." You're treading on thin ice, buddy. Do I squash this development before it gets bad, or be a "good guy" and support his doomed love? Like I said earlier, this is all conjecture. I won't know unless I have more information. Then again, I can't be running around solving other people's problems when I got my own issues to deal with.

"Don't do anything rash. What makes you so sure you even like her? Are you sure you're not deluding yourself like with Kairi?"

"Even if I am, that's fine." Has he been so starved for affection that any show of kindness will immediately invite his love? "I've never really…connected with another person before. It's refreshing, to meet someone who understands. I don't want to lose it, this feeling."

With this, it's clear Roxas isn't going to cover for me. Whatever. The scriptwriters for Destiny High Times are gonna have to scrap their opening episode or wrangle up some random idiot to fill in for me. No reason to play ball with Laguna when I've got options. Heck, this might be even better. I wonder how Riku will feel when Roxas is getting all cozy with Xion? That might be sweeter revenge than winning his wager on public television.

"You've only known each other for a week. Give it some time first. Your feelings might change the closer you two get. See exhibit K: Kairi. She barely held your interest. Who's to say that won't happen again?"

"It's different with Xion." New flavor of the month always tastes better than the old. I can't tell if he's genuine or if he's genuinely deluded. "This is real. This is something I can hold on to." He looks at me. "Isn't it?"

"I don't know. As much as I'd like to help, I've got my own problems. This is something you're gonna have to figure out by yourself. Sorry, man."

He shakes his head. "That's fine. It's enough that you listened to me. This must all sound really stupid to you."

"It's not stupid. Everybody's got their own circumstances. It's how you deal with it that matters. Keep practicing, and have a little patience."

"Thanks, Sora." What an uncomfortable feeling. I'm not used to receiving gratitude.

"Think nothing of it." I close the door and enter my sanctuary. I'm finally back. I gaze at my bed longingly. Time to wrap myself into a cocoon and parse today's events. There's a lot to process. "Tabby? You around, buddy?" Damn. Just my luck. He must be playing with the neighbors. A promise is a promise. I walk over to the blinds and draw them open.

**OH MY GOD!**

I cover my mouth immediately and look away. She must've been waiting by her window this entire time. Even if I wasn't love sick, anybody would be creeped out by the sight of Kairi staring at me with that creepy-ass psychotic grin. It's a scene ripped straight out of a horror movie. Is she trying to devour me with her eyes? I'm glad she can rest easy, but what about _my_ sleep? A shudder runs through me. I'm gonna have nightmares tonight, aren't I? Just pretend she isn't there.

My cell phone makes a noise, informing me that I received a text. I check it.

**Kairi: Good night! :D**

Is this gonna be a thing now? I let out a defeated smile. I better get used to it. My life's gonna get a lot messier from now on.

As if it wasn't already.


	31. A Walk to Remember

**Chapter 31: A Walk to Remember**

Sleep doesn't come easy.

When I close my eyes, the day repeats itself in a vicious loop, forcing me to relive that awful moment over and over again. I can never forget that sinking sensation, like a big, wet slug of dread crawling down my back and dissolving into a puddle of cold sweat. The more I think about it, the more it stings. Naminé handed me my first taste of ether—the shit that makes your soul burn slow.

Torture—that's what this is. I'm laying here in bed thinking about too many useless things. I have to concentrate on more productive matters—I need a plan. I reevaluate the facts, weaving together disparate pieces into a coherent whole—or something close to it. Rikku and Naminé both know my secret, Kairi has monophobia, Roxas likes Xion, and Riku is Riku. Somewhere in this tangled web lies the key to unlocking everything.

This isn't the only thing keeping me up at night. Lurking in the deep, dark shadows of my imagination is Kairi, and she stalks my every thought. I can just imagine her standing before her window, palms against the glass, eyes glazed, staring straight into my bedroom. I probably shouldn't have promised her to leave the blinds open. What was I thinking? Now, I'm paying the price, like a kid who's watched too many scary movies before bedtime.

**DING!**

I almost fall off my bed when the phone rings. It's 2:30. Who's texting me at this godforsaken hour? Never mind, I think I know who. I grab my phone and check the message.

**Kairi: Are you having trouble sleeping too?**

Of course, it's her. Who else could it be? I think our friendship has gone to her head. Who said she can bother me at all and odd hours of the night? I have to nip this problem bud before it becomes a trend.

**Sora: Go to sleep.**

Her reply is instant.

**Kairi: :D**

An emoticon? Of all the ridiculous—

**Kairi: Sry, cant stop thinking bout u**

The message stops my heart cold, and I end up hyperventilating for twenty terrifying seconds before switching the phone to silent and tossing it aside. I hug myself a little tighter. Morning can't come soon enough.

I stare at the back of my eyelids for what feels like hours. When I open them, I'm welcomed by the sight of first light peeking through my windows. Exhaustion has a way of stretching out a second to eternity. I probably got about thirty minutes of sleep. I roll off the bed and drag myself through my morning routine: clean up, get dressed, and scarf down a quick breakfast—two slices of toast and a pouch of OJ squeezed dry in record time.

I stop at the front door and put on my shoes. As I tie my laces, I mentally prepare myself for the day. It's a whole new world out there and I'm gonna have to face it with everything I've got. The only difference between this morning and yesterday's is that Kairi is now my friend. I hope she doesn't get any weird ideas like walking to school together.

Before I open the door, I detect a hint of oddness similar to that feeling of being watched, almost as if something was waiting for me on the other side. It's 6:00 AM, practically two hours before school starts, and it's well outside Kairi's observed wake up times—then again, today's a special occasion. Children have been known to wake up very early on Christmas Eve. She can't be… I'm just being paranoid. I open the door and—**GODDAMMIT**. I slam it shut. What in the world is that _thing_ standing outside?

"Hey, it's me. Open up." It speaks in her voice, apparently. The greeting is muted by the thick door between us.

"What the hell are you wearing?" She had on the most ridiculous, ill-conceived attempt at a "disguise" ever devised—a red baseball cap with her hair tied up in a low ponytail, face mask over the mouth, dark shades on the eyes, and a neon-lit, bright blue windbreaker wrapped loosely around her shoulders—the very sketch of a roaming rapist.

"I thought maybe this would help a little." It doesn't—far from it. The jacket is several sizes too big for her—not to mention, I can recognize that outdated style anywhere. She probably pulled it from her dad's closet. If anyone sees her camping on my porch like this, I won't be surprised to hear sirens blaring down the streets. Hide your kids, hide your wife, it's Kairi!

"You've never been discreet in your life, have you?"

"It does go against my usual MO." This is what happens when you dive headfirst into new things: you fail. Go big or go home. It would've been better if went the whole nine yards and donned a hazmat suit, not this half-baked stalker outfit.

"If you start treating me with kid gloves, I'll never get any better," I explain. Dressed like that, she'll draw more attention than deflect. I don't want to be stopped and stuck explaining to cops why she's walking around dressed like the Unabomber.

"Are you saying I should take it off?" Oh god, please no—wait, you mean just the disguise? Then absolutely.

"Best way to learn is without training wheels."

"Okay," she says warily. "Don't say you didn't ask for it."

"Just keep the cap on and stay out of my sight." I peer through the peephole. She's off to the side. Good. I open the door and abandon the safety of my home. On the porch bench is a discarded jacket and face mask. "Where are the shades?"

"I need them."

"Why?"

"Because you're way too bright for me." Wow... that is... disgusting. I said that once upon a time? I deserve a kick in the balls for that.

I cough. "So... what are you doing on my doorstep?"

The porch bounces from her toe-tapping excitement. "Since we're friends, shouldn't we go to school together? We can get to know each other better." Such a canned line. She's treating this like a date. Next thing you know, we'll be swapping our favorite bands and movies. Look at all the things we have in common, like our fucked up heads.

"Let's go."

The fresh autumn breeze blows, kicking up lazy leaves from roadside gutters and forcing distant palm trees to lean over for a nice whipping of wind. After a hot tropical summer, this kind of weather is perfect; not too hot and not too cold. For her sake, I take the scenic route and resist the call of dark alleyways and paths unbidden. I stay vigilant, keeping an eye on the periphery until I realize that its early morning, when the sky is faint with scattered blue and the sun still straddling the horizon. Hardly anyone around. Aside from a couple cars, the streets are empty.

Kairi takes special care to stay out of sight, lagging three steps directly behind me. Her soft footfalls follow mine in rhythm like a military march. She's been highly considerate, staying exclusively in my blind spots. I'm grateful. But now that I know what ails her, I also feel guilty. For her to be so close, yet, so far away—the faint stirrings of pity swell in my heart. She probably wants nothing more than to mug me with her grubby little hands. I admire her restraint, and mine—for not running away like a scared rat.

"What's the plan?"

"What plan?" I reply.

"I don't know—that thing about clearing up the past and keeping your secret from getting out?"

"Oh… that. I spent the whole night thinking about it."

"And?"

"I'll just confront her."

"Rikku?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

I had envisioned multiple scenarios, some subtle, and some not so subtle. To organize my thoughts more clearly, I devised a mental matrix with one column filled with possible approaches and another with possible outcomes. It was a lengthy process of logical branching, taking assumptions into account and formulating conclusions based on the premises. In the end, simplicity won. "I'll walk up to her and ask her straight out: did you tell anyone my secret?"

"Somehow, that method doesn't really suit you."

"Agreed. But considering how my usual methods panned out, maybe a little straightforward honesty is the way to go." I hear her poorly concealed giggle. "What is it?"

"Nothing. It's just… I'm happy. I haven't felt like this in a long time."

I wish I could say the same. Any moment now, she can pounce on me and tear me to shreds. This is unfair. Why does she get to be safe and sound while I'm being stalked by lady panther? "You're crazy."

"A little bit. It's just that... My dad would always take me to school. He'd drop me off because I couldn't make the walk alone. I tried sometimes but… It was impossible. I just couldn't do it. I'd reach maybe halfway before I started getting anxious. I'd freeze up and feel like the whole world was gonna crush me. Then I'd have to call my dad to pick me up and take me the rest of the way. For all the friends I made, I never once walked to school with any of them. You and Roxas were my first. I'm glad we can do this again."

"Way to make me feel horrible."

"I didn't mean to lay it on you like that. I'm just happy. That's all." Yeah, happy in the same way a kid feels when it turns out his parent's didn't abandon him after all. They just decided to go on vacation without him. Pricks. Well, enough sob stories, it's time to get down to business.

"Do you remember anything from childhood?"

"Nope."

"You're a great help. What the hell have you been doing the last couple days? Stirring up the pot for kicks?"

"Well, excuse me for not doing things like you. I have to make friends before I can start asking questions. That's my style."

"In that case, let me ask you something: have you ever lived in Destiny Islands before this summer?"

"According to my parents, we lived here for six months about ten years ago." Alright, now we're getting somewhere!

"Remember much?"

"Sorry."

"Damn it. Same on my end. I can't remember half of kindergarten. My memories start long after you're gone it seems." At least I confirmed one thing: we both have no idea about what happened ten years ago during a span of six months. That certainly narrows things down.

"Isn't that weird? To just have a piece of our memory locked away like that? It's completely blank for me. The strange thing is that I can remember things before it just fine." Locked memories aren't unheard of in traumatic cases, especially when kids are involved. An undeveloped mind is incapable of processing great stress, pain, and horror, forcing the consciousness into retreat. Without this defense mechanism, we probably would've gone insane a long time ago. Which begs the question: what the fuck happened in those six months that was so bad that we'd both forget everything about it—and each other? "Do you have any leads?" she asks.

"We had kindergarten together. I even have the pictures to prove it—that reminds me, does 'Nakata' mean anything to you?" It's a minor inconsistency but it still bothers me.

"That's my old name."

"You have more than one name?"

"I'm adopted. Reno and Cissnei aren't my real parents." She's adopted? Whoa, that changes things—that changes a lot of things actually. Already, one of my safest assumptions has been shattered. What other bombs is she hiding? You can't drop it so casually like this! You gotta give me time to be prepared.

"But you look similar," I argue.

"We're not related by blood. I'm an orphan. I never knew my real parents. The name 'Nakata' came from the orphanage I was raised in." She pauses for a moment. "Sometimes, I wonder… maybe that's where it all started? That the reason I'm afraid of being alone is because I was abandoned from the start."

Now I feel awful. If you ever want to make someone feel like shit, just whip out the orphan card—works every time. "I didn't mean to dredge up the past."

"It's not your fault." Since I asked the question… Yeah, it kind of is.

"Wait, doesn't that mean I have nothing to do with your monophobia then? This is clearly beyond the scope of those six months we spent together."

"True. But there has to be a reason why you make me feel safe. If you're not part of the problem, then you must be part of the solution. Other than my parents, you're the only one I can rely on."

I speed up my pace, as if to elude the responsibility she so desperately wants to pin on me. "Don't expect any miracles from me."

"I'm not. All I want is to find out what happened between us. If I knew what it was, maybe I can replicate the process and feel like this around anyone, not just you." Her pace is off by a half-step. "You think I have something to do with your gynophobia?"

"Yes—and don't call it gynophobia."

"If it makes you feel better." She gets back into rhythm, matching me stride for stride.

"I'm certain we used to be friends—or classmates at least. So that's where I'll start. I plan to visit the elementary school and talk to our old teacher, Ms. Estheim."

"When?"

"After school today."

"Can I come?" The question was a formality. She'll be coming along no matter what I say.

"Will anything I say stop you?"

"Nope. So where is it, the school?"

"You've been living here this long and haven't realized it yet? It's right there." I point to a giant plastic sign planted in front a homely office building. It says: Destiny Elementary School.

"It was this close?" Even though it's only one block from our homes, I can't blame her for missing it. It's a small school integrated into the heart of suburbia. You could almost mistake it for another house. A line of trees guard the interior from outside view, but once you get past the front gate, the campus opens up to a network of classrooms connected by "soft halls"—paved pathways shaded by awnings. It's an outdoor campus. Apart from the main buildings (the administrative office and the library), most of the classrooms are isolated from each other. Go further back and you'll reach the playground and athletic field. The girls used to love playing tag with me back then, because I'd never touch them. Kairi takes a long hard look at it. "Seems kind of familiar... You think she'll still remember us?"

"Tidus said I was out for two weeks. Hard to forget something like that."

"_You_ did."

"Which is why I'm gonna ask her about it."

"I can't wait. It's like we're solving a real mystery together." Her excitement's starting to rub off on me.

"It _is_ a real mystery. Our lives depend on it. If we don't figure this out, we'll screwed for the rest of our lives."

"Maybe for you. I don't mind if we never find out, just as long…" _As we're together, _I finish in my head.

"How selfish can you be? I'm gonna die because of you one day."

"What gives you that idea?" I can hear her smiling.

"Everything."

The silhouette of Destiny Islands' famous Paopu tree touches my feet when we approach Sky Plaza, the halfway point in our journey to school. The morning sun stretches the tree's shadow to cartoonish lengths, easily covering a distance three times its height. The shops, most of them tourist traps, begin opening their doors as cars gradually pour into the circling road. The sidewalk becomes bumpy, and fancy, with raised concrete tiles that look like frozen bubble wrap. We pass an open café and the aroma of fresh coffee tickles my nose.

"How do you like your coffee?" she asks suddenly.

"I don't." I'm not a fan of stimulants—artificial or natural. I don't want to end up like an addict, relying on drugs to get through the day. "But if I had to pick, I'd say cold." I notice her stopped figure in the coffee shop window. The reflection's transparency blunts the impact her appearance would normally have on me, allowing me to observe her attire. I see she's wearing a nice, pink, and airy blouse. Why did she ever think to cover it up with that gaudy jacket? Something's off; she hasn't moved in awhile. "Kairi?"

"The plaza's nice. It also feels familiar."

"That's probably because it's on TV all the time. There's always a shoot going on nearby. It's a tourist spot, always packed with people. Once it's rush hour, this place will be jam-packed. When I think about it, this place is perfect for you. It's always full of people."

I spot her thin smile in the reflection. "I only need you."

When she says things like that, my head goes into weird places... places I'd rather not think about. "Don't give me any ideas."

"But it's true."

My heart trembles, not only from the implication, but because mixed in with the fear is that self-gratifying desire to be liked. Let's face it; I've never been popular. This is the first time I received something that resembles a confession, if only because I'm the one person outside her parents that make her feel safe. That's about as far it goes though. I'm nothing more than a psychological crutch. Then again, most boyfriends are—not that I'm implying that I'm boyfriend material or whatever, and especially not with Kairi. She requires way too much physical intimacy for my taste and...

God, my head is dull. The lack of sleep is getting to me.

"Let's get a mug," I suggest uncharacteristically.

"Really?"

I open the door and a bell announces our entrance.

"Welcome to Sky Coffee. How can I help you?" The place is empty. Looks like we're the first customers for the day. The menu displays a dozen different ways to say "coffee," and I have no idea what I'm looking at. Kairi, however, saunters up to the counter and makes a very specific order that I can't quite follow. Lots of foreign words were involved. I avert my gaze towards the window. She's certainly a girl who knows her coffee.

"And you?" Kairi asks me.

"What, you buying?"

"It'll be my treat."

"I defer to your expertise."

"An iced coffee," she tells the barista.

I take a seat near the window and look around inside. The warm-colored walls are covered with esoteric artwork. The same trademark appears at the corner of each picture. I wonder if there's a company out there that specializes solely in coffeehouse artwork. It's always that same aesthetic: a slapdash of colors and shapes underlined by offbeat phrases scrawled in funky topography as if to say: you are now inspired. How insipid.

"I love the smell of coffee," Kairi mentions. She stands a few feet away in my blind spot. "Every morning, I'd brew my dad a cup. That's when we'd have our morning talk. Coffee and conversation—the perfect blend." She speaks reverently of him—which makes sense, given her condition. I recall Cissnei's earnest favor from last night and marvel at their consideration for each other. They may not be related by blood, but they're more a family than mine. When I reflect upon my flimsy relationship with my parents, I feel a pang of disappointment.

"You guys are close," I comment.

"He's taught me a lot. He always said that drink was the heart of all conversation." I recall my mom putting away mugs after Reno's visit.

"What kind of drink?"

"Any kind—alcoholic, caffeinated—whatever keeps the mouth moist and moving. If you aren't talking, you're drinking, and if you aren't drinking, you're talking. Easing into conversation, listening, and making people feel comfortable… he drilled these things into me every morning. It's thanks to him that I've made it this far."

I don't envy her—how can I when I don't know how it feels? "I never had that luxury. I had to learn everything on my own. I spent countless hours in the library searching for answers while everybody else was having fun outside." I realize how sad I sounded. "Don't get me wrong, it's not like I regret it. I can't imagine my childhood going any other way. It's just that things would be a lot different if I wasn't… love sick."

She doesn't say anything for awhile. "Oh, looks like our drinks are ready. I ordered them to go, hope you don't mind."

"I don't." I get up and walk over to the counter to pick up my beverage. It's easy to pick out; it's the one with ice in it. I exit the shop, Kairi following behind, and the bell announces our departure.

"Thank you and have a nice day!"

That took us about fifteen minutes. Sky Plaza's starting to become lively. Left, right, and across the street—nobody I recognize. I'm safe. If anyone caught us leaving the coffeehouse together, it'll be a massive headache. I spot Kairi pulling down her cap in the window. I have to hand it to her; despite her initial fumbling, she's gotten pretty good at staying incognito. We clear Sky Plaza and cut our way through Elysian Fields, the public park. We don't say anything to each other. Instead, we sip our drinks in silence. If no one's talking, then we're just drinking. Anything to keep the mouth occupied. I don't mind the quiet, but the uneven sound of her steps tells me otherwise.

"I can't take this anymore," she finally announces.

"What?"

"A hug." I pretend I didn't hear that. "I want a hug."

All of sudden, my iced coffee feels exceptionally cold, and a whole lot heavier. Is this a side effect of the caffeine? "What are you talking about?"

"A hug is the heart of all friendships," she declares matter-of-factly. "We can't be friends until we've hugged each other. That's the order: first you have a drink, and then you finish with a hug."

What's this nonsense? She may as well be speaking in tongues. "Another one of your dad's sayings?"

"No, I just made it up right now."

"You know what'll happen if you touch me—"

"I don't care." She's usually more accommodating than this. Don't tell me the caffeine's unleashed her inner animal. "Please?" she says sweetly.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Come on, just a hug—no, just one touch!" I hear a footstep and instinctively take one forward.

"Enough messing around. Let's just go to school, okay?"

She doesn't reply. I don't like this. Has she gone rogue? But she's been so well-behaved up until now—unless, it was just all an act to lure me into a false sense of security… Oh god. I turn around, keeping my eyes to the ground until I see her feet. Are those running shoes? It's almost as if she anticipated this. I can't die today—although, it'll be pretty ironic dying in a place called Elysian Fields. What I'm thinking, I have to get away! "I'm warning you, stay back!"

One foot forward. "One…"

"Don't do it, Kairi. Stop if you know what's good for you!"

"Two…"

"Damn it, forget this!" And so I did, clearing my mind of all distractions except for the graceful image of a gazelle leaping away from the jaws of certain death. Run, run, oh, run, you beautiful bastard!

"**THREE!**"

I squish my cup and the lid pops open, spilling cold coffee all over my hands. "Look what you made me do!" She answers with thunderous footfalls, her steps approaching closer and closer until—did she just graze my back? The horrifying image of a dead gazelle pops into my head. NOOO! I activate my afterburners, my legs filled with bounding energy, and take off. The park becomes a blur, foliage and grass melting away, memories filling in the gaps, and I find myself in the field at Destiny Elementary. That's right… I'd almost forgotten. The girl's also hated me back then because they could never touch me during tag. Suckers.

"Okay, I give up!" Kairi shouts. I keep running. "No, seriously! I can't keep up with you." I slow down at a comfortable distance and stop to recover my breath. I can hear her gasping for dear life.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I yell.

Then I hear it; the most uplifting sound I've ever heard: her carefree laughter, reverberating through the park like a song, deep, rich, and resonate. The grass, the trees, and the leaves all seem to dance and sway to her tune. Her laughter penetrates me, reaching down into my hollow depths, and pulls out a warmth I didn't know existed. It spreads throughout my body, reaching out to my toes and fingertips, and I calm down, relax, and take in this sudden scene of serenity. This girl truly amazes. One moment, she threatens to destroy me, and in the next, she puts me back together as if nothing ever happened.

"I've never seen someone run that fast before," she lets out in a ragged breath.

"I've had practice." I should be angry, and appalled, about the stunt she just pulled. Instead, my mouth smiles at the stupidity of it all. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Just a joke. I just wanted to see how you'd react, but…"

"But what?"

"Hug me?"

"Don't push your luck." I look down at my cup and see nothing but ice. Since she paid for it, I can't complain. Still a waste though. I throw it into a park trashcan.

"You know, I was wondering; why cold coffee?"

"First time I drank, I burned my tongue."

"That's too bad. Personally, I think hot is the only way to go." She throws her coffee away too. "Hey, do you think you'll ever be cured?"

What a redundant question. "Yes?"

"Then promise me, when the day comes, that I'll be the first girl you hug."

I take a sharp breath through clenched teeth. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

She makes that sweet sound that assures me that everything will be okay. An innocent giggle, the salve for all unreasonable requests. Who am I kidding? It doesn't soothe at all; that shit burns.

We quit the games and resume our trek to school. All that activity's got my blood's flowing. Not gonna lie: that was refreshing. Perhaps she saw how tired I was and decided I could use a jog to clear my mind—yeah right. Although she didn't get her hug, the fading adrenaline subsides into a warm afterglow that achieves pretty much the same effect—at least from perspective. She seems to enjoy it, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but this whole thing feels kinda...

Pleasant.

"I wish we can stay like this forever."

I stop, panic striking my chest. I can see where she's coming from, but I wouldn't put it like that. It sounds almost... romantic. "You make it sound like we're a couple." I anticipate a witty retort but it never comes. I chew the inside of my cheek nervously. They say silence speaks louder than words but that's just a matter of interpretation. Is this silent assent… or silent dissent? It's not like she sees me as anything more than a convenient crutch, right? This is bad. I mean, up until now, I've always got this vague feeling that she maybe, possibly, kind of likes me. I'm not too sure though. I have to confirm it. "Just so we're clear—you don't like me, do you?"

"I do."

My head explodes. Splat! Dat... dat... drip... pat. I'm dead; I'm pretty sure I'm dead, because NO WAY IN HELL did I just hear Kairi admit that she likes me. Hold it. "Like" is too broad a term, it can mean anything. Example: she likes me as a friend, obviously—or maybe she likes me like ice cream. Right, Kairi? I'm ice cream, damn it! Okay, take a deep breath, calm down, and clear this up neatly. "As in... romantically?"

"It's not like I know the difference between this feeling and love. Maybe they're different, or maybe they're the same, but it doesn't change the fact that you're the only person I've met that I can possibly fall in love with." Not the answer I expected, but it makes perfect logical sense. Basically, she'll take whatever she can get.

"I'm flattered, but you're the one person I _can't_ fall in love with. Sorry, but you're gonna have to look elsewhere."

"I don't have anyone else but you." Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—she's not serious about this, is she? I'm so glad I can't see her face right now. I'm sure it'll positively kill me.

"That'll change once you're cured."

"If that's possible."

"It is, and it'll happen, and you'll find someone much better than me." My words are becoming desperate. I'm the last man on earth trying convince her that there's someone else out there. Obviously, I'm lying through my teeth, but it sounds nice, doesn't it?

"Like who?"

I don't like where this going. Things are getting heavy. What happened to all those good vibes earlier? I need a joke, a really good joke to turn things around. "I hear Riku's ready and willing."

She bursts out laughing and the mood lightens immediately. "Oh god, don't remind me."

I wipe the sweat from my forehead. Crisis averted? "Is he that bad?"

"He's pushing for some awful ideas to be included in the script." She shudders audibly. "I thought these shows are supposed to be improvised?"

"How naive of you. Don't you know everything here is scripted? Let me guess, he wins the contest?" No doubt rigged for maximum drama.

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Thanks for the spoiler."

"I didn't say I'd pick you."

"Didn't you just confess to me a minute ago?" Stupid! Why did I bring that up again? After I've managed to steer it perfectly too. I'm an idiot.

"Riku can be my TV boyfriend and you can be my real one." She doesn't seem fazed.

"In your dreams."

"And on TV." She chuckles softly. "But seriously, Sora… It doesn't matter how you feel about me. Until I know for sure what I'm feeling, I'm sticking to you like glue, and there's absolutely nothing you can say or do to stop me. Got it?"

There it is... her ultimatum. Now I know where we both stand on the issue. It seems like Kairi herself doesn't know whether her feelings are a symptom of love (highly unlikely) or just a byproduct of monophobia. "Don't worry; I'll help you figure it out—hell, not only that, I will prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that your feelings for me are simply a symptom of your condition. That doesn't mean we can't still be great friends though."

She lets out an exhausted sigh. "Okay. That works for me."

"It's important to set up boundaries. I'm glad we got that cleared up."

"In all honesty, I'm just confused. All my feelings are jumbled in one giant mess. It's... hard to explain."

"All the more reason to work together, right? We'll get to the bottom of this sooner or later. I promise."

"Does that promise include a hug?"

I hesitate for a moment. "Oh, what the hell—hug included. By then, I'll be cured anyways."

"I'll hold you to that."

"There'll be plenty of holding when the time comes."

She laughs, which makes me laugh, which makes her laugh harder, and for some reason, we can't stop laughing. For one gleaming moment, it was like we weren't all fucked up in the head—as if things were _actually_ normal for us. And you know what? That scares me. I haven't had this fun much in ages. Her charms are undeniable; it's not just her pretty looks, dazzling as they are, but her radiant personality too. She's showed me so many different faces today: her kindness, her spontaneity, and her vulnerabilities. She is a phenomenal girl and any man would be lucky enough to be friends with her.

Unfortunately for me, despite all her qualities, her presence only aggravates. My stomach churns, my hands and feet feel numb, my face burns, and my head throbs—all symptoms you're familiar with. This isn't anything new. You know this. This always happens when I'm around a girl, and it's the worst around Kairi. But little by little, I'm starting to realize, maybe I feel this way not because of my love sickness, but because maybe… possibly, just maybe…

This _is_ love sickness.


	32. Think Better of Me

**Chapter 32: Think Better of Me**

One block.

The silhouette of Destiny High looms one block; one block before escaping her specter; one block before we part ways into our own unique brand of hell—one block from freedom. If only she hadn't stopped me to ask that one question:

"How do you _really_ feel about me?" I almost burst out in laughter.

"You're asking me this now?" I dare not turn around. I can imagine her face all too clearly; eyes glistening, lips curled uneasily, and hands rubbing in nervous friction. She demands assurance, and I'll give it to her. "I think you're smart, charming, and funny." The classic three—the three adjectives everybody wants to hear used to describe themselves. A safe and truthful answer.

"You didn't answer my question." She's right.

"What was it again?"

"How do I make you feel?"

"That's not the same question."

"Then I'm asking you a new one." She's tired of my game of verbal tag. In my defense, she's the one who started it.

"Don't you already know? Whatever happened to that heart-to-heart we had minutes ago? It wasn't satisfying enough?"

"That's not it. It's just—feelings change, all the time. Right now, how do you feel about me?" She had to ask me this after I unsuccessfully convinced myself that I didn't like her. To be fair, it's not confirmed, but being unable to discount the possibility is a big win for her. Is she looking for _any_ excuse to fall in love?

"Afraid." Whether or not I like her, there's still one feeling I can't shake off, and that's fear.

"I see…" Her disappointment is obvious.

"What did you expect me to say?"

"I'm not sure. I was just curious. There are few things in this life I'm certain about, and you're one of them, Sora. When you get to be as popular as me, you'll start to see it—how transparent people really are. If you asked me what's the best part of getting to know someone, I'll tell you: it's the beginning. Because that's when anything is possible. You don't know whether they love you, or hate you, or admire you, or envy you. I like to think they like me, but that's not always the case. I've been burned more than enough times to see the signs. After awhile, I can pick out the girls who hang out with me only because they're jealous. I can separate the guys who are hopelessly in love from the guys who just want to screw me. They pretend, they listen, tell me everything's okay, that we're just friends, but inside their heads, I can see the gears spinning, the fantasy playing before their eyes, and I know in my gut, that they're imagining me on my knees, naked, satisfying whatever wild fetish they got in store for me."

"I doubt you can really see all that, but thanks for the mental imagery. I'm totally not sick right now."

"Oops." She totally meant to do that.

"Honestly, you don't have to worry about me fantasizing about you. It'll be the same as fantasizing about torture."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Er… yes? You don't feel the slightest bit of creepiness knowing dudes are using you as wank material?"

Her shadow shrugs. Given the context of my condition, it's understandable, but she probably feels a wee bit jilted. "For what it's worth, I don't mind if you fantasized about me. I do it all the time with you—"

"Okay—stop right there. I'm already feeling sick. I don't need you to push me over the edge. I mean, seriously? Are you trying to get me killed? That's too much—just way too much information."

"I'm just joking." She giggles unconvincingly. "What I'm trying to say is, coming from anyone else, I couldn't care less whether they lied to my face or secretly hated my guts. They're nobodies. But if it's you, I wouldn't be able to take it. I _need_ you to like me, to not hate me, to… love me even. When I told you my secret, I wasn't just telling you about a little problem I had, I was giving you my life. And knowing that, knowing my secret, you could—if you wanted to—absolutely destroy me." I never really thought of it that way. Funny, it was always the other way around. "I'm just as afraid, Sora."

"Don't stress out over it so much. Until I get myself cured, I'm not going anywhere."

"And after you're cured?"

"Then I'll ask you to marry me."

She laughs, but it comes out as a warble. "I can't tell you how much I thought about this last night. I'm looking at this from all angles and there's so much I'm still confused about. I'm driving myself crazy just standing here. Promise me; promise that you'll never abandon me, that you'll never leave me, that you'll never betray me—ever. Because I know that if you do it once, I'll forgive you, and if you do it twice, I'll forgive you again, and I'll keep on forgiving you no matter how many times you break that promise, because you're the only one who makes me feel this way."

I take a deep breath, a real heavy one, and exhale slowly and hold it until my lungs begin to burn. "It's too early for this shit."

"Sora—"

"I promise, I promise, I promise, and I promise. I'd go on, but I think you get the idea." I understand it completely. To live with this burden—it drives us into corners we never knew existed, and those corners are dark, fraught with suspicions and nagging doubts. This outburst of hers is just the tip of the iceberg. I can't imagine the depths to her misery. "Although I'm new to the whole being betrayed thing, I know it feels like shit, and I wouldn't wish that feeling on even my worst enemies—except for the ones who betrayed me."

"I'm sorry, it's just—"

"Don't apologize. It's fine—it's better than fine. We're getting to know each other. It's honest, it's weird, and it's fucking scary—but also kind of exciting." I've become responsible for her, and she for me. Our frail psyches rely on bonds that can unravel any moment. Only through talk like this can we bind our strings ever more firmly. "Just don't forget yourself, Kairi. As afraid as you are, you can literally kill me, and after what you've just said, I'm afraid you'll grab me for fear of losing me."

"I would never," she denies.

"I'm just saying… it's a two-way street. We're both holding each other hostage here. Let's just try _trusting_ each other, okay?" I'm starting to think trust and worry are the same thing. They both give me massive headaches.

She slaps her cheeks lightly. "You're right. It's too early for this shit, but… it was good, wasn't it?"

"Let's get to school already," I say, annoyed. "Can't we save the life-altering revelations for after school?"

She laughs at my joke. "Think about what I said. It wasn't for my benefit, it was for yours. When you talk to Rikku, keep it in mind, okay? See you later, Sora—no exceptions."

"Yeah. Okay."

I can never get a clean break. She always leaves me with something to chew on. It's as if her existence depends on me. Such awesome responsibility almost overshadows my own problems. My secret feels trivial by comparison. But gravity is relative, and I push aside her worries and concentrate on my own.

After the whupping I received yesterday, I must know: does the witch still reside in her cave? I twist the knob to the art room—and to my surprise, it's unlocked. I push the door open to be greeted by Naminé, sitting on her throne, with a wicked grin on her face. My heart stops as her betrayal flashes in my mind. Her shrouded eyes stare down at me and I wilt, my limbs curling in agony. She beckons forth my fears, my insecurities, and my distress, and wraps it around me like a cold blanket, dragging me down to my knees. The weight is heavy. I can feel it crushing my body.

Then I snap out of it. In place of that hollow depression is the fierce fire of rage. The anger overwhelms, and I run up to her and impress upon her face the fury of my fists, raining blow after blow on her visage until it twists, distorts, and tears apart, leaving a giant gaping hole in the canvas. Even her shitty drawings were a farce. Is there no end to her deception?

She left a masterful self-portrait when I arrived. It was a painting of her, sitting on a throne, one hand folded beneath her chin, and the other with fingers stretched out, invisible puppet strings hanging from her fingertips. It was her declaration of victory. It told me two things: she no longer attended this school, and that she could mock me from wherever and whenever. For a moment, I feel bad about ruining such a well-made painting, but my anger returns, and I tear the rest of it to shreds, littering the floor with scraps of cloth and paper. I gather the remains, throw it in the garbage bin, and stomp down on it repeatedly.

"You… stupid… fucking… BITCH!" After the twentieth stomp, I back off, and look around for a match to light up that trash on fire—but then think better of it. My anger has been sufficiently sated. Wow. I kind of lost it for a second there. I shake my head vigorously, brain bouncing in my skull, and allow the adrenaline to taper off. I don't think I'll be seeing Naminé anytime soon. It's in her best interest to minimize contact. She has the upper hand, and all she has to do is wait for me to flinch.

I slowly make my way to first period, my heels dragging across the floor. I'm deflated. It's just bullshit after bullshit. I've got curious teachers, poor saps, and crazy bitches on my ass. When will it all stop? I enter class. It's still early, but Xion is already there. I take my seat with no fanfare. I'm too exhausted to say anything clever.

"Good morning to you too," she says. Of all the days to be acting nice, she picks now? Come on, people, be consistent—or at least predictable. I recall Roxas' confession last night. I may as well do him a solid.

"How do you _really_ feel about Roxas?" I ask out of the blue.

Her brow creases, wrinkles gathering between her eyes that belie the storm brewing in her mind. "He's a good guy."

"You like him?"

"I'm past liking anyone these days, but he's a good friend." Probably not what Roxas would want to hear. I tried, cousin, I tried. "We're similar. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about him. I'm getting worried."

"Worried? About him? He's the last guy I'd be worried about."

"If that's what you really think, then you're more ignorant than I thought." Her accusation didn't carry the sting she hoped it would. I admit it, when it comes to matters of Roxas, I'll gladly stick my head in the sand. If she knew about my predicament, she'd apologize for suggesting otherwise. But whatever, I'll entertain her worries.

"I live with the guy, but that doesn't mean I can read his mind. I know something happened to him in the past, but if isn't spilling his guts out to you, what makes you think he'll spill it to me? Every time I get on the topic, he clams up. If anything, you have a better chance of cracking his nut."

She stares at me, really hard, uncomfortably so, before shaking her head. "I don't get it. I just don't get it. What does he see in you? What have you done to deserve his respect? You're cousins, you live in the same house, and yet, you still can't see it. You're blind."

"Then why don't you illuminate me instead of sending vague insults?" The classroom door opens and student begin to pour in. Class will start soon. I return my attention to Xion to see her pointing at her eyes.

"You can see it in his eyes; his hurt, his pain, plain as day for the world to see. It's always been there. Even though he smiles, grins, and laughs, underneath it is a boy in pain, and he wants your help. But you don't care, and you never cared, because you never looked deep enough to actually notice." I unconsciously grip the edge of my desk. I am many things, but I'm detecting an unpleasant implication here. Who is she to judge me?

"What makes you think I don't care? What makes you think you see anything in his eyes? Are you sure you're just not seeing yourself in there? You know what I see when I look into his eyes? A pair of pupils and irises. That's it. If he really wanted my help, then he'd drop the happy-go-lucky act and ask me straight out."

"He can't! Don't you get it? He's not strong enough. He needs someone else…" She pauses, visibly upset, her brow furrowed and lips trembling. "…and I can't—I can't be that person. I can't ever be that person—not again. It has to be you, Sora. If you don't do it, then I don't know what'll happen. If you want to prove me wrong about you, then reach out to him." It's kind of shocking to hear her make that request, especially after all the grief she's given me. She's practically begging me.

"Fine. I will." Sometimes, I forget there's a world outside, and that things happen when I'm not there. Is Xion even talking about the same person here? I know Roxas is a slightly pathetic creature, but he's far from the fetal ball crying for help she makes him out to be. But it's not the first time the not-so-obvious has eluded me. I never imagined Naminé to be a cutthroat puppet master or Kairi to be a desperate, clingy, loner. Fuck. Who the hell is Roxas? Is he a sheep in wolf's clothing? I don't know anyone anymore. "Why do you care so much about him anyway?"

She laughs darkly. "Maybe… because it's a chance to make up for all the hurt I've caused." When you say something like that, I can't just leave it alone.

"Are you talking about Riku?"

Her face doesn't budge for a few moments, but eventually cracks into a wry snort. "Maybe you're not so blind after all. Before you start making up wild stories in your head, I'll just tell you. It's not a long story, or even a complicated one. Riku and I grew up together as best friends." Now that sounds familiar. "And one day, he tried to kiss me. It scared the shit out of me. I avoided him after that. I ignored his calls and his texts. Eventually, he gave up. The next time I saw him, he was a jerk. He turned into a player. I think he did it to spite me. Every time I saw him, he was making out with some chick or playing some poor girl. It was hard to watch. The Riku I knew disappeared," she snapped her fingers, "just like that. And because he was so handsome, he could get away with it, dumping each girl for a new one every week. I felt responsible. If it wasn't for me, these girls wouldn't have been hurt." Am I good, or am I good? I fucking nailed that backstory. She breaks out in a sad laughter. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"I have that effect on people." They might resist at first, suspect me of ulterior motives, but in the end, they'll reveal their stories to me. It's because they can't ignore the possibility that I may hold the answers to their problems. "Maybe the reason you told me is because you want me to help?"

She laughs disbelievingly. "Yeah right. You're the last person I'd go to for help…" She doesn't seem to believe her own words, and grits her teeth in frustration. She shakes her head in defeat. "I think all the good things Roxas said about you is finally getting to me. Not just him, but Kairi too. What kind of magic did you cast on her? I swear all she does is gush about you."

"She… gushes about me?"

"Don't act surprised. She even told me you guys walked to school together this morning." When the hell did she do that? Damn it, Kairi. Keep that shit on the down low! "If Kairi says you're okay, then it has to be true. She's the best judge of character I know. She knows, instinctively, whether a person is truly genuine. Nobody can fool her. But as for you… I still got my doubts."

"Have a little faith in me."

"If you want my faith, then work me a miracle." You want a miracle? Me first.

The bell rings and first period starts in earnest. As much as I want to continue our conversation, Ms. Holland keeps a vigilant eye on me. Xion doesn't mind. She probably said all she wanted to say, and then some. She's a unique girl, and one of the few I don't have to restrain myself around. For all the issues I've got, the world is hurting too. Everybody around me is just drowning in problems and they expect me to bail them out. I can't be everywhere and I can't do everything at the same time. I gotta focus and take it step by step. Today, I got only one mission:

Confront Rikku.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. I wanted to squeeze in an update before the month ended to keep my streak alive. A few more hours and I would've been toast on the east coast. Once again, thanks for reading, and don't forget to leave a review. <strong>

**This story is now discontinued.**

**Until the next update anyways. Did your heart stop for a moment? I'm just trolling. Til next time.**


	33. Unstoppable Force Immovable Object

**Chapter 33: Unstoppable Force, Immovable Object**

Naminé is nowhere to be found.

I'm not surprised, but I'm a little disappointed. What's the point in mocking me if she's not here to relish the results firsthand? The only trace of her is an empty seat. The other students don't even notice; it's as if she never existed.

First period ends with nary a word between me and Xion thanks to Ms. Holland's undue vigilance. Being stared at tends to stifle conversation. As the class empties, I call out to her. "Hey, about Riku..."

"What?"

I clear my throat to cleanse the palate, though I suspect this talk's already gone sour. "Do you regret it? Cutting things off with him?"

Conflict shadows her face for the briefest of moments before she reverts back to stone cold stoicism. "I only told you about him so you wouldn't get any ideas. He's a jerk. I wouldn't want him even if he crawled back on all fours begging for forgiveness." Thanks for the mental image—like I wasn't having enough trouble going to sleep lately. She sighs, bringing a palm to her head as if to nurse a migraine. "Forget about Riku. Help Roxas, okay? He's the one who needs your help." Before I can reply, she cuts me off, "I'll see you later."

Far be it from me to pry into another person's business. Some relationships aren't worth salvaging. You can't force it. Certain people are better off never meeting each other. If true love is to be believed, it only stands to reason that the opposite is also true, that our worst enemy lurks somewhere in the wild. Of course, it's hard to tell which is which. Enemies turn into lovers and lovers into enemies. It's a crazy world out there, only because it's filled with crazy people. I pack up my things and leave.

When I see Olette coming into second period, I'm reminded of my sins from yesterday. Shit, I totally forgot about that. Things didn't exactly end on a great note. How should I play this? No need to change the script. I'll play it cool, hang around here and sit down right when the bell rings, leaving her no opportunity to talk. I try to walk in nonchalantly. Hardly one step in when I'm suddenly assaulted by Pence.

"Yo, buddy. Can I get a quick word with ya?" Hearing the commotion, Olette turns my way with a look of displeasure. And here I thought I could sneak in unnoticed. Since he blew my cover, I might as well use him as my new cover. Something feels off about him. I can taste the nervousness in the lone bead of sweat dripping down his forehead.

"What you'd do?"

He offers his palms in peace; they're slick with sweat. "Who says I did anything?"

"I have a feeling you're about to."

He grabs my arm and pulls me into a dark corner away from prying ears. He makes a grand show of his cautiousness, casting wary glances over both shoulders before opening his mouth. "Okay, before you get mad, I'm just giving you a heads up. Remember that picture I took of you? Well—"

"You gave it to Kairi."

He gasps, making a sound similar to the suction of air when you open up a pickle jar. If only his lid was as tight. "How'd you know?"

"I put two and two together." If I had a picture of Kairi then she absolutely has a picture of me. We think alike, even though our reasoning for holding pictures of each other is probably worlds apart. I'm using her as training material and she's using me as… You know what? I don't want to know. When she took a picture of me yesterday, she was probably adding to an already extensive collection. I wouldn't put it past her to have a whole album filled with just me.

"You're not angry?"

"Not really. A lot has changed between now and yesterday. Besides, now I know never to trust you with anything. Lesson learned."

"Why do you think I told you about this? I'm being upfront here. You can still trust me."

"Why so eager?"

"Cause I know a golden goose when I see one." His grin widens to obscene lengths. I don't think his face has enough real estate to contain it. "I know if I stick with you, I'm gonna be adding all sorts of rare photos to my collection. Don't worry, being friends with me has benefits, and just to prove it, I got something interesting to show you." He reaches behind his back and presents me with a photo. I snatch it before anyone can see it. It shows me with Rikku entering the Secret Place.

"What is this?" I was careful during that trip. To think he slipped through my guard and snapped this shot. If it gets out, it'll just mean more trouble. "Are you trying to blackmail me?"

"What? No. I was just—look, I wouldn't show this to you if I wasn't trying to help you. I didn't' even mean to take it. It was a total accident. It's not like I was stalking you."

I slapped him with the photo. "How does showing me this help?"

"Consider it a demonstration of my abilities. You can use me, man! Tell me any target and I'll track 'em down, no problem. I also want to ask… Are you going out with Rikku?"

"We're friends."

"I see…"

"Is that all?"

The bell cuts our conversation short. "Keep the photo," he offers. I was gonna do that regardless. We part ways and take our seats. A cold chill dances across my spine. I can feel Olette's gaze. Fortunately, there's no reason for me to look at her; I'm just trying to learn here. Miss Lockhart's got my full attention. I admire the physics on display until she declares that dreaded combination of the words "group" and "work." Work sheets are distributed and desks are pushed together.

"I want you to partner up with the person sitting next to you and fill out the worksheet. If you need any help, I'll be at my desk lifting weights." I watch Ms. Lockhart glide into the corner, settle down behind the desk, and produce dumbbells the size of my hairdo. Underneath that delicate frame of hers is a knockout in both senses of the word. Great, Olette is my only choice for partner. I raise my hand and Tifa looks at me square in the eye. "No credit unless there are two names on one sheet." Damn it. I was gonna ask if I could fly solo, but the way she suspends that massive dumbbell in mid air gives me pause, and I reluctantly swallow my request.

I crane my neck slowly towards Olette until we meet face-to-face. She doesn't look pleased. I smile disarmingly to no effect. "How are things between you and Hayner?" Judging from her dirty stare, not too hot?

"You really are a jerk, aren't you?" Not the first time I've heard that and certainly not the last. Tell me something I don't know. I could use some originality.

"Is it that bad?"

She sighs as her eyes sink into the ground. "As much as it pains me to say this: thank you." Her dour expression turns bright side up and I'm almost blinded by the change. "Your stunt brought things out in the open and we had no choice but to… uh… talk it out." Her eyes inch towards the ceiling in remembrance and she bursts out in a bubbles. "I… We finally exchanged our feelings."

"Then all's well that ends well. Congratulations." I didn't screw up after all!

She snorts derisively. "You're not the off the hook yet. I get what you were trying to do but couldn't you think of a nicer way?"

"If I could've, I would've." She looks like she wants to say more but holds her tongue. I understand my methods are not ideal, but at least I get results.

"How did you know anyways? And why did you help? You could've left well enough alone."

I shrug. "It was obvious, and I have a reputation to uphold. When I see two idiots in love, it's my duty to make them realize it." She's dubious of my claims. "What does it matter anyways? You're together now. Enjoy it."

"I never said we got together. We only exchanged our feelings."

"Weren't they mutual?"

"Yes, but since I'll be moving at the end of the year, we decided it would be best if we left things the way they are. If we got together, it'll be that much harder to separate, wouldn't it? I don't want us to get close just to split up like that. It would be too sad."

The pencil in my hand slips through my fingers and rolls off the desk, hitting the ground, and bounces before lying dead. The explanation doesn't sit well with me—at all. As a matter of fact, I find it quite irritating. "And you're fine with that?" It came out more accusatory than intended.

She leans down and picks up my pencil. "It's what we agreed on." She slams it back on my desk.

"Seems like a waste to me. I'm surprised he went along with it. Think of everything you're leaving on the table."

"Like what?"

"I just thought… you'd want to make some memories before splitting up. At least give him a little something to keep him warm at night." She squints, her eyes squishing together as if my suggestion was some sort of utterly foreign concept unknown in both sight and sound. I roll my eyes in kind. "Sex. I'm talking about sex."

Her pupils shrink in shock. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Never mind." Every couple goes at their own pace. The obvious route, to me anyways, is to enjoy that short time together to the fullest. Who cares if you're gonna separate? If their feelings for each other are that strong, they should go all in. Experience new things, adult things, pleasurable things. Lonely hearts need something to chew on until the next best thing comes along. "Are you sure about this? You guys grew up together. You should bring things full circle before the end."

"It's not the end," she says, smiling softly. "If we're meant to be, then we'll find each other again some day. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?"

"How mature of you." Typical girl reasoning. They're always trying to test their relationship under "unique" circumstances. I'm not sure this kind of stress test is necessary. A relationship should stand on its own merits, not on its ability to weather exotic storms. Maybe I'm too much of a romantic and she's the one being realistic for once. "It's a long time until the end of the school year. Can you resist the temptation? Better question: can he?"

"I trust him." Considering how jealous she got over Rikku, her words barely hold face value. Then again, they know the score between them better than anyone.

"Good luck with that." I lean back and exhale slowly. That wasn't so bad. Not a total victory, but a small one nonetheless. Considering all the effort I put into it, I suppose I should be lucky that things ended up as well as they did.

Now that I think about it, it's probably for the best. There's nothing wrong with being friends. Once you cross that line, there's no turning back. Case in point: Xion and Riku. A perfect example when impulsiveness overrides future planning. He confessed too early, scared the shit out of her, and prevented any possibility of mutual feelings from developing. What a noob. It calls into question the classic dilemma: can a man and a woman truly be friends? The short answer? Yes. Sure, the guy may think about screwing her once in a while, but that's a mental rite of passage that _every_ woman he meets goes through—hardly something to be concerned about. Then there's me, the prime exception to everything that has to do with girls. I'm living proof that the old quandary is nothing more than sophisticated bullshit. Friendship is what'll keep you warm in the coldest of winters. A wise man would never let it go.

"Are we still friends?"

She makes a show of giving it thought, a finger lightly grazing her chin. "Hmmm… I don't know."

"Even after all I've done for you?"

She laughs. "That doesn't exactly help your case, but okay, I'll forgive you this one time."

"Whew," I say jokingly. "That's a load off my mind."

A dumbbell drops onto my desk with a frightening CRACK. I recoil in shock and look up to see Ms. Lockhart standing before me with a rather strained smile. "Need I remind you that you're on assignment now?"

We barely finish the assignment before class ends. As we stand up to leave for nutrition break, Pence comes barreling into the picture, wrapping his arms around us. "Aren't we just one big happy family?" He turns to Olette. "I heard about you and Hayner. About time you told each other how you felt. I'm not gonna be a third wheel from now on, am I?"

"Don't worry. We're gonna stay friends. Maybe in the future, things will be different, but not now." She spares me a glance. "I'm gonna go meet up with Hayner now. You wanna come with?" I'm curious to see his side of the story. I can't see any self-respecting male cockblocking himself from getting into his best friend's pants—especially when said best friend is as cute as Olette, but… love has a way of making us dumb.

"Sure."

"You guys go on ahead without me. I've got some pictures to take." Pence winks at me; I have no clue of how to interpret it. "See you guys later."

We part ways amicably and I follow Olette into the crowded hallways. As we weave in and out of traffic, I count the hours in the back of my mind until fourth period. Ever had those days when you have something planned only to be bogged down by a constant stream of nonsense? The road of life is long and winding, fraught with many detours and side trips. Instead of being annoyed, it's best to take it in stride and enjoy the scenery as it comes. We reach our destination at point Hayner, and I have to say, he is looking exceptionally bright today, a far cry from his bleak, exhausted, and nervous face I've become so familiar with.

"You're looking good."

He smiles graciously. "Sora!" Before I know it, I'm wrapped in a hug. I don't mind since he's a guy, then again, I mind because… well, he's a guy.

"Okay, I get it, you're grateful. Can you let go now?" He backs off but continues to glow with excitement.

"My man. Hey, everybody! You see this guy here? He is the MAN!"

I clamp his mouth shut. "I think they get it. Let's stop with the ass kissing already."

He laughs apologetically. "Got carried away there—but you deserve it." I glance over at Olette, who's happy to see Hayner so happy. All these positive vibes are starting to get to me. It's infectious.

"I heard about your little arrangement. Are you good with that?"

They look at each other and nod. Their level of synchronicity borders on eerie. They're totally operating on the same wavelength. "We've talked about it a lot. It wasn't an easy decision, but we agree; it's the best thing we can do for now. The future is still wide open. There's no need to rush. It feels good to have my feelings out in the open." Olette squeezes his hand for support and they share a smile.

"So even though you guys aren't official, you're still exclusive?"

"That sounds about right." Their faces redden ever so slightly. Yeah… I'll give them a week before they start discovering the joys of physical intimacy. They'll be sucking on each other's faces in no time.

"I'm happy for you two." My words bring him absolute joy. It's confirmation that he's not dreaming. This is, indeed, reality. He lets go of Olette's hand and slings an arm over my shoulder.

"I'm gonna talk to him in private for a sec," he tells Olette. He leads me a short distance away and huddles close. "Hey, yesterday, I kind of lost my head for a second. Even though it was kind of a dick move, it was definitely the push we needed. Thanks for that, really."

"It was nothing."

"It's not nothing. Without you, we wouldn't be here—me with her. I don't know how you do it, but you're like a goddamned wizard. For a moment yesterday, I really thought you ruined everything for me. I've never been that desperate in my life. I just… I laid it all out, man, and it worked, it actually worked. When I realized she felt the same for me, I… I can't even begin to describe that feeling. And it's all thanks to you."

"No, Hayner. Thank _you_." He's baffled by my response. Is this what redemption feels like? I thought myself despicable, but for all my shenanigans, I've done something good. I admit, I've manipulated people, I've toyed with their emotions, but with Hayner pouring out his heartfelt thanks to me, can you really condemn me for it? The ends don't always justify the means, but with this positive result, I feel like it's the dawn of a new day—a new page in the book of Sora. I'm not _all_ bad. There may be hope for me yet. "Don't waste this chance I gave you."

"No way." He looks over his shoulder at his best friend. I can see the bliss washing over him. "Thanks again." He rejoins his beloved and I take that as my cue to leave. Don't you just love happy endings? Too bad there's still more to go. I still haven't addressed today's core issue: Rikku.

I check the time on my phone. Only a couple more minutes before the bell rings. I set course for next period, which is math with Ms. Trepe. I don't anticipate any problems today. It should be smooth sailing provided I keep my mouth shut and look like I'm paying attention. I hit the classroom entrance early and open the door to take a peek inside. Oh man, not that Laguna bastard again. I try shutting the door but someone on the other side stops me.

"I saw you, Sora!" I let go and the door opens wide with Laguna stumbling out. "Heh, I knew if I waited here long enough, I'd catch you."

"What are you doing?" I ask, annoyed.

He puts on his TV smile. "Riku's in this class, and you know I always follow my stars—including you."

"Still trying to rope me into your show?"

"Funny you mention that, because I heard that you could use a little help—help that I can provide."

I check the hallway cautiously before pulling him into the classroom, which is empty. "What are you talking about?"

"You can't hide it. I know that Chain of Memories wants you, and that you don't want Chain of Memories." Kairi, can't you keep your big mouth shut for once? "I feel ya, I really do. That's why, just for you, I wrote up this special contract that'll make you the sole exclusive of Destiny High Times. You sign this and you won't have to worry about appearing on any other shows." What's the point in picking my poison if it'll kill me all the same?

"Oh? And what are you asking for in return?"

"Nothing much… just… you know… a whole season—"

"Absolutely not."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

I raise my finger. "One episode. No more than that."

"Half a season then. I'm sure we can write you out halfway."

"One episode."

"A quarter season, that's only four episodes."

"One. Episode."

"Be serious. It's not a negotiation if you keep repeating yourself without conceding _something_. Throw me a bone here."

"As much as I hate the idea of showing up on Chain of Memories, I'd rather take my chances than get into bed with you. You're both equally terrible."

He crosses his arms confidently. "Four episodes is the lowest I'll go, and only for today. Tomorrow, it'll go back to eight—half a season. That's my final offer."

"Thanks but no thanks."

"Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you." Even though I turned him down, he's acting pretty cocky. He reaches into his jacket pocket and hands me his business card. "If you change your mind, give me a call." I stash it away for future reference. I may need it as a last resort. "You should thank Kairi. She's the reason I'm giving you such generous terms. I bleed for my stars. That's the kind of service you can expect once you're on contract."

"You can keep your service." And I'm gonna have a long discussion with Kairi about meddling in my affairs. Is she gabbing to anybody with a set of ears? Seriously, girl, calm your shit down. The bell mercifully rings, bringing our exchange to a close, and I prepare for class. It is uneventful, with the exception of a few times when a student got a question wrong, which provoked the cracking fury of Ms. Trepe's whip—but that's to be expected. It's dreadfully ordinary. Even Riku, who normally has a wisecrack or two, sits there deep in thought about god knows what. Class closes with a whimper.

Fourth period, science with Branford, and of course, Rikku. It feels like I've been holding my breath for this very moment. After all the crap I've had to wade through, it's time to confirm Rikku's honesty (or treachery) once and for all.

It's the same scene every day—opening that door, walking in, with all the fixtures and people positioned in the same place. Only today, all the desks are rearranged into groups of three. That's right. Ms. Branford decided to troll me by declaring class participation as 50% of my grade. I can't avoid Rikku even if I wanted to.

"Hey." She offers me an uncanny smile that's sure to have led many men to their graves—by what reckoning, I do not know.

"Rikku." I've got her full attention. I notice signs of fatigue on her face. What does it mean? Is she hiding something? Relax, Sora. You can do this. I've already decided that a direct confrontation was the best way. Don't sweat the small details. "Did you tell my secret to anyone?"

She's aghast at the accusation. "Of course not." I lean in close to observe the minute facial contortions for any sign of deceit. I see nothing but Rikku… I draw back sharply once her proximity registers. I forgot myself for a moment there. "Are you okay?" I nod my head unconvincingly. "What's going on?"

I glance at her face a few more times and come no closer to a conclusion. For all my grandstanding about my ability to read people, it dawns on me that I actually suck at reading people. See: Exhibit Naminé. I can't trust my own eyes anymore. "Are you sure?" I ask again.

She frowns, arms crossed over rigidly. "I'm sure because I've never told anyone about it. Promise."

I try to say more but the words stay lodged in my throat when I see her face. I relent against her withering stare, her grimace, lips contorted, as if holding back immeasurable pain. When she looks at me like that, it doesn't matter if she's telling me the truth. To think I'm responsible for this ugly expression… I'm a horrible, horrible person. Goddamn it. I was expecting violent outbursts of anger and vehement denials; instead, I get the puppy face treatment and it's killing me. This isn't working. As much as I want to, I can't trust her. It's Schrodinger's Cat, except the only thing hiding underneath the box is her intention. She is simultaneously telling me the truth and lying to my face. No matter what I do, I can't open that box. The possibilities are paralyzing.

If I can trust Kairi, why can't I trust Rikku? Simple. I have leverage over Kairi. With Rikku, she has no reason to keep my secret other than to maintain my trust, and given the premise for betrayal, taking advantage of my trust is exactly the kind of thing to do to exact revenge. Naminé had succeeded in planting the seed of doubt in my mind, because right now, when my trust should pull me through, I'm instead pressured by the overwhelming suspicion that Rikku is pretending, only acting—just like Naminé. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice—no way I'm gonna let that happen again.

If I can't read her, then I need someone who can. I never thought I'd say this, but I need Kairi. I'll have to wait until lunch. That way, I can have Kairi here to help me. "There's something I want to talk to you about. Do you mind staying here for lunch?"

She turns cautious. "You can't tell me now?"

"I just—I want to introduce you to someone—and it'll be easier if we stay here."

Her eyes narrow. "Someone I know?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

She observes me flatly before relaxing her shoulders. "I guess you're entitled to your secrets." She coughs. It sounds rough; she looks like she's been up all night. "Are you ready for the concert tomorrow?"

Tomorrow looms as my possible execution date. At the very least, "I'll be there."

"Great! You won't regret it."

"Is there a surprise waiting for me?" I catch a momentary flash of alarm before it dissipates in earnest excitement. Am I imagining things?

"You'll find out soon enough," she says, winking. I'm reminded of the old saying: keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer. I'm being led to my slaughter by a smile.

A hand slams down on my desk. "Mr. Hikari, did you think over my proposition yesterday?" I forgot about Ms. Branford. She's still on about that? I lean away from her.

"You know my answer."

She smirks. "Then I hope you will cooperate with your group efficiently. Today's assignment involves a lot of hands-on work. Be prepared." She walks away with a bounce in her step. It's like everybody expects me to give in sooner or later. First it was Naminé, then Laguna, and now this? Maybe they're right and all I'm doing is delaying the inevitable. I won't go down without a fight, however.

"I have no idea what you're thinking," interrupts Paine. She's also in my group. "With a deal as sweet as that, you're an idiot to turn it down."

"I'm sure he has his reasons," Rikku excuses for me.

Paine shoots me a dirty look and I chuckle nervously. "Tch. Whatever."

Branford's warnings manifest in the form of our "group assignments." How sneaky of her. Although I'm not under entirely controlled conditions, the tasks on the worksheet might as well be a checklist for conducting experiments. We have to measure each other's fingers, limbs, and other body parts, including the dilation of our pupils—which requires up close observation. All these tasks are designed for one purpose: to put me as close to a girl as possible. I'm able to endure only by the grace of Rikku's conscientious courtesy. Ironic, given my mistrust. Perhaps she's true…or just keeping up appearances. I don't even know anymore. With these "assignments," it's only a matter of time before I crack, and when that happens, I'm sure it'll be quite the spectacle. For now, ignore it. Forget all about those chills, cold tingles, and goose bumps. Class draws to a close, we turn in our assignment, and everybody is hungry as hell for lunch.

"Go on without me, I'll be sticking in class with Sora," Rikku tells Paine. The ruby-eyed girl nods and joins the crowd waiting to escape the classroom. "So, are you going to tell me who's showing up?"

"Just give me a second," I say, maintaining my composure, before pulling out my phone to text Kairi. As soon as I press send, I hear a jingle by the entrance. The students by the door begin to stir. No way, it can't be… I cut through the crowd, shoving obstacles out of the way.

"What's your problem?" they yell at me.

"Shut up," I snap. At that, everybody gives me space. If it's who I think it is, I don't want anyone near the entrance. I crack the door ajar and who should be waiting outside for me? I knew it. It's Kairi. Only she can rile up the class like this.

"Got your text, got here as soon as I could," she explains breathlessly.

"You were here before I even sent the text—are you stalking me?"

"I just had a feeling—"

"Leave and come back in five minutes. I don't want people seeing you around here. You're blowing my cover right now!"

"Fine." She stomps away and her footsteps melt into silence. I close the door and turn around. Everybody looks at me anxiously.

"There's nobody," I say. They crash into me like a wave, bodies flying and arms reaching desperately for the door. What the hell?! I crouch down and crawl between their legs. I'm squeezed out the other side as a swell of disappointment fills the room.

"Where is she?"

"She was there a minute ago!"

"Did you get a good look?"

"Maybe we imagined it?"

The lunch bell sings and the cages swing wide open. Everybody empties the room chasing after illusive stars. I return to my seat with Rikku. "What was that all about?" she asks. I shrug my shoulders. The room is mostly empty except for a few stragglers. Ms. Branford takes out a homemade lunch and watches me with keen interest. It's unsettling. Gasps erupt from the few leftovers in the room when Kairi makes her grand entrance.

"That's her."

Rikku turns to me with startled eyes. "_She's_ the one you're talking about?"

"Yeah—give me one moment." I meet Kairi halfway and pull her aside—figuratively, of course. It's not like I can touch her.

"So that's Rikku?" Kairi comments, eyes fixed on the blonde sitting down. "She's prettier than I thought."

"I need to borrow your ability to read people," I request.

She intuits what I'm thinking instantly. "I got it." Wow. So this is what it's like to work with someone competent, unlike a certain cousin of mine. Before I know it, she's already introducing herself to Rikku.

"Hello there, I'm Kairi. You must be Rikku."

"I've heard so much about you," Rikku replies sweetly.

I sense a disturbance, an unnatural stillness that often heralds the collision of two astronomical objects, resulting in the obliteration of all matter in the universe. The air has definitely turned frigid. I look between the two and can't help but notice their glares parading as calm facades. I think I may have unleashed a cataclysm the likes of which the world has never seen before.

And I'm right in the middle of it.


	34. Not Worth Fighting For

**Not Worth Fighting For**

Is this a dream?

Or a nightmare?

I'm strapped to a chair and I can't close my eyes. Even if I could, my eyelids aren't thick enough to stop this penetrating light. It's a collision of stars and blinding photons.

The two girls stand in front of the room, faces locked in fierce gazes. This casual meet-and-greet has turned into something else entirely.

"How do you know Sora?" Rikku asks coolly. Even with my dull perception, I can sense a slight edge to her voice.

"We go way back." An altered truth. It's true and it's not true. It's strange seeing someone else go to work. As a fellow conversational manipulator, I can admire her subtle twisting and turning of words.

I scan the room and few stragglers remain, no doubt the future source of new and inconvenient rumors. I wonder if I can kick them out.

"Sora and I go way back too. Since elementary school." Their pleasant smiles inspire an awful queasiness, their mouths widening beyond the limits; I'm afraid the edges will touch their ears.

"We go back even further than that. Since kindergarten," Kairi says proudly.

Rikku flinches ever so slightly. "Funny you should say that because he's never mentioned you. You must not have been very memorable."

"We were kids." Kairi doesn't seem to be affected. "To be honest, I almost forgot about him too. But ever since we got back together, it's just like old times." She certainly knows how to sell a lie.

"He's different than when you last knew him. I know _everything_ about Sora today."

"Me too. He was more than happy to catch up with me. There are no secrets between us. He completely trusts me."

"You guys realize that I'm here, right?"

"**Shut up**." What eerie synchronicity.

"Um… I'm not really worth fighting over—"

"**We're not fighting**."

"Of course not…" I wipe the sweat from my forehead. I should let Kairi handle everything.

Rikku clears her throat loudly. "If what you say is true, then do you know about _that_?"

"Of course I do. Don't think you're special. It's only natural that I, his closest friend, know about _that_."

"Oh?" Rikku frowns. "When did you learn about _that_?"

"Last night."

Their conversation is drawing keen interest. When they say it like _that_, it sounds like something scandalous. "Can you guys keep it down?"

They glare at me and I stagger from the combined force of two beautiful faces looking at me at once. Did they forget about the effect they have on me? I kneel down for a quick breather.

"I knew about _that_ long before you. I guess that makes me his _best_ friend," Rikku brags.

Kairi recoils, almost taking a step back, but recovers with alarming confidence. "That doesn't matter. It just means he's moved on. You know, like how you replace the old model with a newer one."

"What exactly are you saying?"

"That newer models often have better features and improve over the old ones in every way."

Ouch. That's a dagger with a complimentary twist.

"You—"

"Rikku." She stops and watches as I get back to my feet. I pray their squabbling was out of petty pride and not because of anything remotely related to romantic envy. "Is it okay if she comes to the concert tomorrow? That's the only reason I wanted you guys to meet."

She deflates, her shoulders sinking, and throws a hand up flippantly. "Why not? If it's you, Kairi, I'm sure you'll have no problem finding a ticket even if I don't give you one. Jeez, you make me stay here during lunch for this? I'll see you guys later." Rikku makes a quick exit and the supernova collapses into a black hole. All the attention got sucked out of the room with her.

The leftovers in the classroom begin to murmur. I signal to Kairi to leave. We meet outside and wander the hallway, keeping our distance, until I find an empty classroom. We get inside when no one's looking.

The room lights are off. Illumination is provided by sneaky rays through closed shutters. The edges of her profile glow dimly, highlighted by faint light. It's a hauntingly beautiful scene and dark enough to mute my body's usual response.

"For someone so afraid of cats, you sure resemble one," I joke. "I thought you were gonna get on all fours and start hissing."

She snorts. "It's tactics. You asked for my help and that was it."

"Then excuse my skepticism because it looked like nothing more than a bragging contest."

She flicks a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's why you're the amateur and I'm the professional."

I let out a wry chuckle. "Please do share your wisdom."

She leans against a desk, arms crossed with one hand stroking the chin. "She hasn't told anyone about your secret. If that was the case, she wouldn't so annoyed to know that I know it. If this Naminé knows your secret, it's not because of Rikku—at least intentionally."

"Figured as much."

She giggles because she doesn't believe me. I hate feeling so transparent. I just can't hide in front of her. "But...she's hiding something about tomorrow. I don't know what it is but she's definitely hiding something."

"Do you think…?"

"If she hasn't told anyone by now, I doubt she'd start tomorrow. Whatever she's planning, it's something unrelated."

"As long as it's not my secret..." I'm still a little scared but I'm also a little relieved. "That means Naminé was bluffing."

"It might've worked too. She never thought you'd come to me." The room seems to glow brighter when she grins unexpectedly. "Hey, don't I deserve a reward for helping?"

"Like what?"

"How about a kiss?"

I clamp my mouth and gulp it down. "Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

"Wouldn't hurt to ask."

"It _does_ hurt to ask."

"Sorry."

"You don't sound sorry at all."

"I am." She looks up at the ceiling, her features marred with irritation. "It feels like rejection."

"It's not that I want to, it's because I have to."

"You're terrible at consolation."

"I'm not trying; just explaining. Can't be like the rest of your fans."

She makes a sweet sigh that tickles the heartstrings. "The day you're cured will be a day to remember."

"What are you planning? A proposal?"

"Hadn't thought of that but thanks for the idea!" Liar. She's probably thought of everything.

"Forget it."

"~Too late~," she sings.

I shake off her lingering lilt. That sound is gonna follow me to sleep. "Anyways, just because Rikku isn't announcing my secret tomorrow doesn't mean I'm safe. Naminé still knows. Why make me doubt Rikku in the first place?"

"To make you sign the contract." She lifts herself up with both arms and lands her butt on the desk. "They need cast members signed before the season starts. The faster you sign it, the easier it'll go for production."

"You know what you're talking about."

She crosses her legs. "When you're as popular as me, you have to know your way around these things."

"Don't be conceited."

"Just being honest."

"Isn't time on my side then?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. A threat is only useful as a negotiation tool. Once you use it, you lose all leverage. That's why she used Rikku to make you think it was going to happen. We called her bluff." She raises an arm behind her head, her elbow sticking out, and arches her back.

"What are you doing?"

"Striking a pose. Does it make your heart race?"

I ignore her provocation. "Be serious here. What's her next move?"

She drops off the desk and blows her bangs. "She'll put the squeeze on you."

I was several keystrokes away from breaking down a lifelong friendship between Olette and Hayner. If I can exert that much pressure from a random Kupo, how much damage can Naminé inflict? "I don't even want to imagine it."

"Imagine what?"

"Her squeeze." A world-weary sigh escapes my lips. "I guess I can hold off on signing anything for now. We've still got time."

"What happens when we run out?"

"Then I'll figure something out. I always do."

She's the first to leave because wherever she goes, attention follows. I wait for several minutes before making my exit. I enter the hall with a kind of excitement I haven't felt since I discovered Christmas presents hidden in the closet when I was six. There's intimacy in shared secrets. Our clandestine meetings were drawing us closer, allowing me a glimpse of Kairi that no one else knows about. It's by design. She's trying to make me feel special and it was working.

I can't deny her talent and intellect. Regardless of her ulterior motives, she's been extremely helpful. Even though they barely met, she's gleaned more insight about Rikku than I could in the last week. It's kind of unfair. We specialize in different fields. I know all about being alone and she knows all about not being alone. We're perfect partners.

Next period is Health with Heartily. The battle for the classroom's attention has died down since both girls—Kairi and Heartily—got what they wanted. Without Naminé here, class is peaceful.

Whispers of an "argument" between Kairi and Rikku float in the air. It's already happening. Thank god it's Friday. The weekend holds a mystical amnesiac effect on minds. Come Monday morning, it'll have evaporated.

Then it's PE. God, I hate this class. It doesn't matter how careful I act, the smallest offense sets Lightning off and before I know it, my legs are giving out on the dirt track. I slow down to catch my breath but Lightning cracks the whip, spurring me on. I'm not allowed to stop. I have to keep running, and running, and running, and the fatigue from my limbs collects in my stomach, tossing and turning, conspiring to push the consumed contents higher and higher up my esophagus. I draw in precious oxygen and hope the influx of air can keep the pressure down. It's futile. And I barf. It's been a long time since I puked for reasons other than a girl.

"You're pushing him too hard!" I glance up, wiping the corners of my mouth, to see my savior. It's one of my classmates. "Hasn't he had enough?" The class agrees audibly. They only come to my defense once someone else does. Typical mob mentality.

Lightning is flustered, and for all her bluster, fails to stem the rising tide of protest. "Fine. Sora, you can take a break. See me after class."

I stand up and smooth over my knee's depressions on the dirt. I kick dust over my mess and limp towards the blacktop. I hang back as the class goes through the exercise routines. When the bell rings, Lightning gestures me to follow with her finger. We head in the opposite direction of everyone else. I hope she isn't going to punch me in the gut.

She checks the area until everyone is clear of earshot and levels me with a steely gaze. "Sora, are you familiar with a girl named 'Serah?'" My surprised face answers her question. "I'm her sister."

It all makes sense now. "How was I supposed to know?"

"No excuses. I may have been unfair—" Oh really? "—but I needed to send you a message: keep your hands off her. Got it?"

I nod dumbly. There are so many things I want to scream out but it'll just turn into a bigger hassle. Thanks for bringing up bad memories. I wanted to forget it.

Satisfied, she walks off with her arms crossed. The worst kind of message is one that doesn't make sense. She could've told me about this instead of acting like a bitch, making me run for no reason. It's not even my fault!

It was when Roxas and I went out to buy swimming trunks during summer break, the day before I snapped that photo of Kairi. We were perusing one of the boardwalk shops when came in two very attractive young girls. Roxas, desperate as he was, attempted to flirt and asked for their opinion about swimwear.

"Which one do you think is better?" He held up star-patterned trunks and one with dark stripes.

The girls shared a look and giggled, boosting his confidence. Even if it came from a pale skinny out-of-towner like Roxas, his attention was gold. It was the supreme currency here. Smile and grin and reel in the suckers; basics of tourism distilled into denizens like second nature. I tried to hide myself among the clothing racks but the shop was bright and airy. There was no place to hide.

"Who's your friend?" one of them asked.

"This is my cousin, Sora." He looked at me expecting magic to come out of my ass. That day with Rikku was a fluke, I swear! The temperature steadily rose as the girls waited for an answer. I had two options: feign ice-cold disinterest or lavish attention on them like it was the last packet of syrup on naked pancakes.

"You guys don't care about his trunks," I said forcefully. "We're more interested in what you look like in bikinis." I screwed up with Rikku. This time, I'd lay it on so thick they'd choke on my compliments.

A smile painted itself across their faces. "That can be arranged."

They pulled out several skimpy options off the racks. "Which one do you think is best?"

Okay. That backfired. I turned away and stared at a blank spot on the wall. "It doesn't matter."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I leaped back as their faces veered much too close for comfort.

"Because you guys would look good in anything," Roxas answered. Surprised at his quick thinking, I turned to him and he gave me a thumbs up. "_Nice assist_!" Not what I had in mind but whatever.

"Eh? You don't really mean that, do you?" They seemed put off by his comment and he shrank from the embarrassment. Don't worry, I got you covered. I'd just say something even more embarrassing.

"I think you'd look better with nothing at all—naked is best."

Instead of being disgusted, the girls belted out in laughter. Roxas stared at me with deep respect and admiration. The girls calmed down and approached dangerously, a mouth close to my ear. "_The same goes for you too_."

Who were these girls?!

As if sensing my thoughts, they finally introduced themselves. "I'm Serah."

"And I'm Vanille!"

They were the deadliest pair, hair lethal shade of pink and orange in pig and ponytails, bodies bare, with thin cloth stretched over the chest and hips. It was easy to discern their temperament. There was nothing subtle about them. Vanille was the innocent one while Serah acted the devilish seductress. I had no idea why she was coming on so strong at the time, but with a tightwad like Lightning for a sister, it makes sense.

Serah's arm almost grazed my face as she reached for something behind me. She pulled back and I felt fabric brush against my cheek. "This one's good." It was a beautiful and sensationally styled bikini. Roxas had his jaw wide open, his saliva glands in overdrive because of the _implication_. His imagination was getting a good workout. "Don't you dare go anywhere," she said with a wink.

They disappeared into the changing rooms.

Roxas ran up to me and grabbed a fistful of my shirt. "HOW DO YOU DO IT, MAN?"

I wanted to escape while they were changing but it was clear Roxas had no intention of leaving. It wasn't long before imagination became reality and it was a sight to behold. Serah was donning something fierce, a pink and yellow bikini, with frilly patterns, a sunflower motif, and heaps of ample exposure. Vanille's outfit was a lateral move since her initial outfit was already revealing. With two cute girls in skimpy outfits in front of me, it was becoming a repeat of the other day.

"How do we look?"

"Terrible." My previous plays failed, so I decided to go in the opposite direction and deride them to death. The girls giggled. They knew I was lying. It didn't matter what I said. They were hell-bent on playing me like a fiddle. I looked at the owner behind the counter. "Is it okay for them to be parading around in swimsuits like this?" I, for one, would never buy soiled goods.

The man grinned. "They're cute, so I'll allow it!"

"Why are you acting so mean?" Serah whined. "Is it because you want me to…" _Take it off_, she mouthed.

I unconsciously backed into a wall. She was the worst kind of enemy. Never had I encountered someone so forceful and flirtatious. I had no countermeasures for this!

"Hey, this looks good." Vanille held up silver-colored swimming trunks and turned to Roxas. "Why don't you try it on?"

"Okay!" So eager, young man. Don't you know that you never pull your pants down until you know what the shot is?

I pushed myself off the wall and slipped past the girls and dropped to a bench. My energy was waning with every moment they were here. I needed distance. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. I felt the bench budge slightly as additional weight fell on it. I was keenly aware of the heat signatures on both sides. They weren't going to leave me alone, were they?

"What are you guys doing?" I asked warily.

"Figured you could use some company," Vanille answered.

"Don't need it." Keep your eyes closed. Do not, under any circumstance, open them.

"Awww… Did we do something to offend you?" Serah asked playfully. "We're awfully sorry. How about I make it up to you?"

"No thanks."

"Are you sure?" she whispered into my ear.

My shoulders rose rigidly, my back taut with goosebumps. "Don't—don't touch me."

A hand gripped my arm. "Oops. Too late."

What happened after that was a blur. I was on the boardwalk, stumbling through the crowd, and leaped into the beach sand and threw up in a convenient hole.

"Stop that! What are you doing?!" The boy who dug it tried fruitlessly to pull me away. I spat out the last of it and swatted a pile of sand to cover it up. The kid cried in defeat. "You stupid!" I fended off his futile attacks and stared at the shop across the street, pedestrians obscuring the entrance.

"Sorry kid. Privilege of being a grown up." I returned to the shop, carefully this time, and sneaked a peek. "Where are the girls?" I asked the shopkeeper.

"They're changing," he said in disappointment.

Roxas emerged from the changing room in his new trunks. He looked around. "Did they leave?"

I slapped a bill down on the counter. "Keep the change." I turned to Roxas with renewed purpose. "We're getting out of here." I grabbed his wrist and pulled him out.

"Hey!"

"Don't complain."

"What's going on? Why are we leaving?"

"Shut up." We left the store to join the thick throngs of moving bodies. I looked over my shoulder and saw the girls pointing in our direction. "Get your ass in gear!"

What followed was an intense game of cat and mouse. It involved many alleyways, left and right turns, and harsh pleas of silence to my bewildered cousin. "Why are we running away from the girls?!"

"It's the thrill of the chase!" And because fuck you, that's why.

It wasn't until several hours later did I manage to shake them. By the time I got home, I was exhausted and Roxas was wracking his mind trying to figure out my strategy.

"Oh! I get it. If the girls are already interested, you play hard to get!"

"Um… Yeah. That sounds about right." Idiot.

I'd almost forgotten about that day. It's one memory I can do without. Whatever's in that Farron blood, it wants mine splashed over the pavement. It's like those sisters were born to troll me. I don't know what kind of story Serah fed Lightning, but it sure didn't do me any favors.

Keep my hands off her? I'm more than happy to oblige. If anything, somebody needs to tell that ferocious minx to keep her grubby paws off me.

I'm no prize. I'm not worth fighting over. Let's keep it that way.


	35. Flash in the Pan

**Flash in the Pan**

School's a hassle.

My days don't begin until it ends. It's the final stretch of nightmare before I can wake up. I am tested, forced to endure as my body throbs from all the girls around me, and it's not the good kind of throbbing—though, both can be painful in their own ways.

Ironically, the only thing I want to do after school today is go to more school—Destiny Elementary, my old haunting ground. If the answer's in the past, it means I have to start digging. I don't know if Ms. Estheim is still around but I gotta try. She's my only lead.

I trudge into the locker room and change. A blinking LED in my locker catches my attention. I wake up my phone and check. It looks like a text message.

**Kairi: don't leave without me**

Four little words that speak volumes. Her desperation is palpable, which makes it all the more painful to ignore it. My stomach is still tender from running-induced vomiting. I grimace through my stomach pangs. I can't take the risk of throwing up again. My esophagus needs time to regenerate the lining and I don't want to cause irreparable damage because of carelessness. Gotta stay vigilant, drink plenty of water, and avoid danger by any means.

I'll have to go on without her. Funny. Going solo is my status quo, but it's been a while since I was alone. There's a kind of solace in solitude that I miss. I can actually think without getting sidetracked. I've barely had a moment to myself this entire week and what little I've had was usually cut short by shenanigans. It's a good time to break off and review things. Hard to plan ahead while I'm harried.

**Sora: Sorry.**

I'm not fool enough to think she won't find me but that doesn't mean she has to be with me every step of the way. I know her condition demands it, but so does mine, and considering I've already thrown up once, I can have this one, can't I?

The final bell rings letting loose the cage doors and the beasts come bumbling out. The bell before that was a warning and I would've been out long before this knell if it wasn't for Lightning's delay.

I get dressed and head for the front gate. A cursory sweep doesn't reveal anything suspicious and I jump into the excited crowd. I usually hang back until the dust settles but today, I gotta mingle. Kairi's probably watching the gate like a hawk from some unseen perch.

My eyes seek the paths untrodden, the uninviting alleyways thick with shadows and perhaps other unsavory things. About the worst thing I can find in there is a hung over tourist. It's not the most dignified route but who needs dignity when I've got health?

The path is littered with refuse, overflowing garbage bins, and rusty dumpsters. Blades of grass poke through rare cracks in the concrete. I can appreciate a good alleyway. It's different from the flashy storefronts that line the main roads. It's the other side, the one hidden from view, where the shadows intersect and the sun don't shine. What isn't seen is infinitely more interesting than brightly lit facades. I press forward.

As the world fades behind, my thoughts grow more precise and I come to the sobering realization that I am utterly screwed. I know I've been beating this drum for a while but I was too busy being screwed to realize the total extent of my screwage. All known quantities are becoming unknowns and I will soon be forced to make hard decisions, decisions I can't avoid. It's become of game of "yes" or "no" and if I answer wrongly, there's no turning back.

Two programs want me. One is a reality show that is immensely popular outside of Destiny Islands and the other is the number one show here. The lesser of two evils is signing with Destiny High Times. An exclusivity clause would protect me from Naminé. I assume the contract includes basic protections against slander and libel so if Naminé attempts to leak my secret, I'd at least have legal recourse. But what happens when my contract ends? I'm back to square one.

If I sign with Chain of Memories, I can keep a lid on her, or better yet, resolve the issue entirely, but that requires a leap of faith. I'll be taking one hell of a gamble. For what nefarious purpose does she need me for? I'll be glad if I never find out.

I can render these options moot by curing my condition but I only have two days to do that. The way I see it, if I'm no closer to a solution, I'll have to sign with Laguna to delay Naminé's reckoning.

Damn. Can't she just leave me alone? She should pick on someone else, like Roxas. I guess that's my backup plan. If I can't dig up anything useful today or over the weekend, I'm gonna be a reality TV star. Shit. If I sign by tonight, it'll be four episodes instead of eight. Screw it. I won't sign anything unless I absolutely have to. I'll probably regret it but as long as there's a chance, I can't give up.

I take a break and lean against a wall in the shade. It's not residual fatigue from running. It's mental exhaustion. I'm starting to understand why people keep themselves busy. They need the distraction. When left alone, thoughts gravitate to morbid eventualities. The death of thought is the thought of death.

Will I ever be cured or am I cursed to be forever single? I used to think I preferred being alone but it's more accurate to say I don't mind it. Nobody wants to be alone as long as it's with the right person.

"Found you," says Kairi. It was just a matter of time. Her breathing is heavy and her feet stand at the edge of my shade, between the border of light and dark. And just like that, she crosses over.

"How'd you find me?"

"I know how you think. I figured you'd go someplace like this."

"That must've been tough." I went into these alleyways because there's nobody around. I thought it would deter her. She's tougher than I expected. Then again, those of us with weaker minds compensate with stronger will. "Weren't you scared?"

"I knew I'd find you, and when I did, everything would turn out okay. Were you waiting for me?"

A part of me was. It's not like I stopped on purpose because I heard her desperate footsteps echo in my wake. "I didn't want you to get lost and end up crying to me later on. Less trouble this way."

"Admit it; you're starting to like me."

"Say it enough times and it might just come true." It won't. I've been saying _I want to be cured_ every day for the last ten years. Hasn't happened yet. "Shall we get going?"

"Lead the way."

I doubt she needs my direction. Kairi's the type to know exactly where she is. She needs to know where everybody is. She only pretends to be lost to invite company. The very moment I mentioned Destiny Elementary the other day, she probably printed out a map and circled and x'd the location for reference. We set off for the school.

"This is nice, isn't it?" In her quiet consideration, she lags a few steps behind.

"Sure it is," I answer sarcastically. Everything good for her is bad for me.

"Did something happen?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You wouldn't abandon me without good reason."

"Can't think of a better reason than staying alive."

"You've stuck around for much worse."

"Maybe it's just one of those days. Let's leave it at that."

"No. It's something else."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because I know how you think." There's something comforting and discomforting about hearing that. "Just like how I knew you'd wait for me."

I stop in my tracks. This is wrong. This is very wrong. I can't in good conscience go along with her delusions. She seems to have it in her head that I'm some sort of saint. That she found me wasn't intentional. It was sheer coincidence.

"How can you have so much faith in me? Even if you pretend to know how I think, there was no guarantee you'd find me. Things could've ended a lot worse than it did. You just got lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it. It was a good prediction based on what I already know about you." The ways she speaks with such confidence and conviction is alarming. It's almost as if she knows me better than I know myself, which is, you know, impossible.

"Quit the act. You don't know me."

"You don't believe me?"

"People have tried to understand each other for thousands of years and we're still killing each other. You'd have to excuse my skepticism when you keep ignoring basic human nature."

"You're just afraid that someone other than you might actually understand you for once. Why resist? You should welcome it."

"That's not how it works. Things have to go in order. There's nothing to justify your faith in me."

"But things _have_ gone in order. We used to be friends. Isn't that enough?"

"Even if we were friends once, that was years ago. I'm no longer the same person—whoever the hell he was."

She laughs. It's a beautiful, joyous sound that somehow makes me feel silly for ever doubting her. "You don't have to think so hard about it. It's not about logic. I just follow my gut. This feeling you give me, everything about it, tells me you'd be the last person to ever abandon me. That's all it is. Whether or not I'm right, that's up to you, isn't it?"

"You shouldn't build me up like that. You might be let down, buttercup." Once again, someone has set their expectations for me. Everybody I've met has done it: Roxas, Rikku, Naminé, Riku, Laguna—they all expect me to be something I'm not. "What is that you want me to be, Kairi? What would you have me do?"

"Nothing. Just be you. Be Sora. The only thing I'd ever ask of you is…don't ever leave me."

"What if being Sora meant being cruel and mean. Would you still want me to stick around?"

"You can't change how I feel when you're with me…" Uh…battered wife syndrome? "Besides, I know you're not like that. I like you just the way you are—except for the whole 'you can't touch or even look at me' thing. That definitely has to change."

Hilarious. A few chuckles escape my mouth. I should be grateful; being accepted unconditionally is the one thing everybody wants. To have it fall into my lap like this should make up for all the bullshit I had to endure over the years. Too bad I'm still quite a ways away from accepting her tenderness with open arms. "You're a dangerous one."

"Don't hold back. Just be Sora as much as you want." For a moment there, I thought I heard "_be sorry as much as you want_." Same difference.

"Whatever you say. It's your funeral."

"There are worse things than being buried with you."

"God, don't even—"

She giggles and I speed up. If we stick in these alleyways any longer then it'll be my funeral.

After a few twist and turns, we emerge before my alma mater. It's located around the corner of our block. There used to be a shortcut through my backyard that went directly into the field but they replaced the chain link fence with a brick wall. At least they had the courtesy to wait until I was in middle school to do it.

We approach the front office from the parking lot.

"Ring any bells?" I ask.

"Actually…" She steps forward hesitantly, taking in the surroundings. Her usual grace is staggered by fleeting glimpses of the past. It's a welcome reminder that she's not perfect 100% of the time. "I remember this."

"You do?"

"Yeah. This was where I waited for my parents to pick me up."

Makes sense. There's an awning over the front office entrance and glass windows that allowed staff inside to watch over kids waiting for their guardians. It was usually packed from what I remember. It's the best place for someone with her condition. "Let's go find our teacher."

We enter the office. It's a quaint peach-colored space with chairs and plastic wall pockets stuffed with brochures and flyers. In the corner is a potted plant whose leaves possess a curious waxy sheen. Behind the front counter is a young brunette with a bright smile. A placard spells her name: Belle.

"How can I help you?" she greets.

Kairi hangs back and lets me do the work. Fine by me. I lean on the counter, my forearms resting next to chained ballpoint pens and notepads. "Hi. We used to be students here and we'd like to speak with our old kindergarten teacher, Ms. Estheim."

"What's the occasion?"

"Oh, just a blast from the past."

"That's such a nice thing to do. We hardly get alumni. I wonder if I should do the same for my old teacher and revisit her…" I cough. "Oh. Sorry about that. Okay, let's see… Estheim… I'm not familiar with the name. Let me check the system." She must be new. If memory serves, the old secretary used to be, well, old. It's the budget squeeze. Push out tenured employees for newer, and more importantly, cheaper, hires. She frowns. "Sorry, but there's no teacher here by that name."

"It _has_ been a while…" says Kairi.

"I'm really sorry about this. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

I had considered this possibility. "In that case, is there any way for you to find out where she went? The system should be able to tell you whether she retired or transferred to another school, right?"

"I could try but…"

"Hey, Belle. What seems to be the trouble out here?" In comes a familiar figure, the old principal. He possesses an academic air, aided greatly by his round spectacles, red sweater, and neat blue tie. He wore a gentle smile on his broad chin. How nice of him to come out. Saves me the trouble of having to pull the "_I'd like to speak with your supervisor_" card.

"Oh, Principal Kramer. There's no trouble. These young students would like to speak with their old kindergarten teacher, but I'm afraid she doesn't teach here anymore."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance then. I've a keen memory. Who is the teacher?"

"Ms. Estheim," I answer.

"Nora? Ah, you're old students of hers. What grade are you in now?"

"We're sophomores."

"It's been a decade. If you don't mind me asking, what brought you back?"

"I thought it'd be nice to revisit the past."

He nods. "I see… If you had come a couple years earlier, you could've caught her. She's teaching across the island at Paopu Elementary. Would you like me to call to make sure?"

"If it's no trouble."

"None at all. I'm pleased to connect old students with their teachers. What are your names?"

"I'm Sora and this is—"

"Kairi."

"Sora, Kairi, nice meeting you—again, if we've already met before. I hope you don't take offense if I don't remember."

I dismiss it with a wave. "None taken."

"Belle, the phone."

"Here, sir." She hands him a cordless.

"Now, let's see, Martine's number should be…" He mutters a bunch of digits under his breath. "Hello? Good afternoon? How is it going?

"I see. That is quite unfortunate. Occasion? Do I need a special reason to speak to a fellow administrator?

"Be that as it may, I have a favor to ask of you. Does Nora still teach at your school?

"She does? On vacation? An odd time for that.

"Why? It's on behalf of former students. I understand. Do you know when she'll be back?

"That's too bad. I wish you all the luck. Goodbye." He hangs up and looks at us as the bearer of bad news. "I can tell you that she is a teacher at Paopu Elementary. Unfortunately, she's on leave at the moment and it's unclear when she will return."

"Can we get her address?"

"I'm afraid I cannot give out that information. I suppose your meeting will have to wait for another day." I'm not shocked in the least about this setback. Such obstacles are on par for course. I bet she'll die tomorrow because the universe hates me.

"It's a bit unfortunate but thanks."

"No problem. More than happy to help. Anything else I can do?"

"If you don't mind, could we just walk around the school? I'd like to see how things have changed since I graduated."

"It's after school. I don't see why not. As long as you're not planning on vandalizing anything."

I shake my head. "Great. Come on, Kairi, let's go." I suddenly recall a very important detail. "Oh, and uh…keep rocking on."

Kramer's eyes widen.

"Rock on?" Belle repeats in confusion. "Principal, what does he mean by—"

"I'll have to attend to my duties." He makes a quick exit and I follow with my own, though mine is far less urgent and involves more toe tapping. We enter the campus proper and end up in the courtyard.

"What's that about?" Kairi asks.

"He's a Cid. There used to be a band called The Cids with all three members named Cid."

"That's…kind of amazing. How did you know that?"

"Met and know two of them." And I'll probably meet the third tomorrow at Rikku's concert, since he's her father and runs the ship where the concert is being held.

"That was smooth. You worked them pretty good."

"It's easy when they're eager to please a rare customer."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How many people do you think revisit their old elementary school after a decade?"

"A meaningful minority? It's not a crazy thing to do, is it?"

"Were it any place but here, I'd agree. This is Destiny Islands. It's all about the present and future. Things can and will always be better. That's the promise—the lure. The past doesn't matter. Things just are. Like Naminé. She didn't become a star. She always was one. It's in the name; it's destiny."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"We wouldn't be here if I did." Past, present, or future—it all matters to me. "There's a reason why Chain of Memories is so popular here. The present and future can be changed, but the past? That never changes. And we rather forget if it's more convenient for us."

"Remember the good and forget the bad."

"Any flashbacks yet?"

"No—at least, not yet. Maybe a more detailed tour could refresh my mind?"

"The things I do…"

"Maybe you'll remember something too."

"I spent seven years of my life here. If I didn't have a revelation then, I doubt I'd have one now." I look over the place. The school has expanded some, mostly through portable classrooms. "Not much has changed. Our classroom is this way." I lead us to one of the main wings and pass several doors in the hall.

Room 100B. I twist the doorknob but it's locked. We can still peek in through the windows, which we do. Compared to Destiny High's classrooms, this place is a tie dye paradise—colors everywhere. Posters and drawings adorn the walls from floor to ceiling. Aside from minor superficial differences, it was sufficiently intact to trigger any random flashbacks.

"It looks like a classroom," she comments.

"Nothing then?"

"No... How about we stick around awhile? It'll come, maybe…probably." Her attempts to prolong our time together are so transparent. It's adorable.

"If we were really friends, most of our interaction would occur outside the classroom. Follow me." I take her to the cafeteria. It's not really a cafeteria. It's a bunch of benches outside under a wooden frame roof that's covered with a tarp whenever it rains. Lunchtime is when all that repressed energy is freed through voracious consumption. Her shadow shakes her head.

We move on to the playground. I sat on my fair share of swings and played quite a few games of tag, but the older I got the less sociable I became. It correlated with my growing realization of the opposite sex. It got harder to be normal when I was throwing up all over the place.

"These seats are tiny." I place her near the swings.

"Of course they are. It's for kids." She laughs softly to herself. "I wasn't that funny."

"No, it's not you. I was just remembering the past—not this past. It's nothing important."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"You'll think it's dumb." When will people realize that the harder they try to downplay something, the more interesting it becomes? At least until we find out that it's nothing in the end, but hey, it's all about that mystery.

"Only because you say so."

"Fine. Back when I was younger, there used to be a line at the swings."

"I'm sure that's the case at every elementary school."

"Yeah, but the boys lined up for a chance to push me."

"Ha!" Should've expected that. I find it difficult not to imagine, really. There were probably lines for a bunch of stupid crap related to her. Lines to pick up her pencil, lines to walk her home, lines to ask her out, lines for lines…

"I told you it was stupid."

"That's one line I won't be waiting in." Hell, make that most lines. I get my lunch promptly thanks to my stealth cutting.

"Only because you're already in front." She really knows how to deflate me.

Next to the playground is an open field, the same field I used to sneak through when I came to school. During "PE," the class was forced to run around it. Four laps for a mile every Thursday. Hated it. When the fence was there, the kids had plain views of everyone's backyard, mine included. I wonder who pushed for the brick walls, the school or the neighborhood? This place holds a special place in my heart. I equate open space with freedom. It was here that I could observe the strange species known as "girls" from a safe distance.

"Anything?"

"I'm not a fan of open spaces, especially if there's no one around," she explains. We're so much alike yet polar opposites in other facets. I guess that makes us two ordinary screwed up humans.

"I can see how that's a problem." Nothing like seeing no one to really punctuate that monophobia.

"What's that over there?" I look in the direction her shadow points. A wooden shack stands at the far end of the field.

"That's an equipment shed for the groundskeeper." It looms out of reach of children who might hurt themselves on shovels and other sharp garden tools. The distance only magnifies its mystique and it didn't stop many kids from making the trek to unearth whatever secrets lay within. It also housed a loud as hell lawnmower that woke up the school on Monday mornings.

"Can we move someplace more…crowded?"

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

"If you let me touch you—"

"Alright, let's go." I can hear her frown. Hands off the goods, girl.

Our next stop is the library. I don't know if we spent much time together here but it was a second home for me, especially in the later grades. My increasing social disengagement mirrored my growing interest in books and the internet. I didn't find anything too sophisticated amongst the popup picture books and parental filters blocked out most of the interesting material online, but I still found enough to keep me occupied.

The thing about being a kid is…there's always hope. I always felt the answer was just outside my grasp. I know better now. Hope is simply a function of luck. It doesn't matter how good you are if you're always being dealt a shit hand.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you didn't spend much time in libraries."

"You're right," she confirms. "I don't like the quiet but…I love to read." Reading is the lone consolation of the solitary soul. How dare a socialite like her sully the tradition? "I feel much closer to characters in a book than people in real life. Isn't that weird?"

"Not at all. If we could read people like open books." Then everything would be so much easier. I wish life was like that—a world where nobody talks. We'd all have to read each other's thoughts like an old school role playing game. Press a button to summon text bubbles and you'll know exactly what they're thinking. Much better than reading facial expressions and listening for intonations. Why does human interaction have to be so complex and messy? Maybe then, we'd be spared from problems of miscommunication.

"Reading kept my mind off other things. Made me feel like I wasn't alone," she says. "What did you read?"

"Horror stories."

"Any recommendations?"

"Not like that. I'm talking about case studies. Our minds literally constitute reality. If something's off with our brains, it's not a stretch to say it's the end of our world."

The history of psychology is marked by errors, defects, and tragedies. Reality is heartbreaking when it comes to matters of mind. Take a neurodegenerative disease like Alzheimer's that reduces people to jumbled shells of themselves. I'd call an existence like that a fate worse than death. And what about paranoid schizophrenia of which seems to run in my blood judging from my dad's condition? Seeing and hearing things that aren't even there? I can't even imagine.

I suppose there are things worse than being love sick, but what if that's just the tip of the iceberg? It could be one symptom of a much larger underlying problem the likes of which I cannot and will not attempt to speculate on. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have read so much psychiatric literature. It just fueled my paranoia.

That's why my inability to remember Kairi is so frightening. Memory is the foundation for our existence, and for one piece to be missing means instability, and it's only a matter of time before the whole thing collapses on me.

"How many Estheim's do you think there are in the phonebook?" I ask. Time is becoming an issue and Destiny Elementary is a dead end. Ms. Estheim remains our only lead. I'll have to pull out all stops to find her as soon as possible. "There's nothing for us here. We should head home."

"Got it."

She reluctantly complies and we leave. It's a short walk until we reach our homes.

"That was a productive trip," she says.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"I'm just saying…" I guess any time spent with me is a win in her book.

"If you really want to help me, then find Estheim."

"I'll see what I can scrounge up. I've got my methods, remember?" Indeed she does, but I don't know how much help her social network will be. Teachers aren't known to be net savvy. There's a small possibility that she's the prototypical hip, modern teacher who's connected with her students, but since she teaches kindergarten… Yeah, I wouldn't bet on it.

"Don't worry, Sora. I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this mystery in no time!" She's enjoying every second of this. I'm glad at least one of us is having fun.

"Enjoy it while you still can."

Moments like these tend to sputter before they can really get going. I've a feeling this present state of affairs won't remain present for long and not because of me. Forces beyond my control will make their move soon. Whether my efforts will end up futile depends on three-quarter parts luck and one quarter skill. The clock is ticking.

If all else fails, at least I can say I gave it a shot.


	36. I Can Handle It

**I Can Handle It**

I'm an opportunist.

I take full advantage of what little comes my way. Kairi, on the other hand, is an opportunity _maker_. While I have to wait for the winds of fortune to blow in my direction, she is the wind itself, and all obstacles bend before her. I know I can't do everything alone, and there's no reason to—not anymore. It's time to pull up the sails and ride the wind.

"Hey Kairi, I could use your advice."

We're in front of my house with the afternoon sun muted by shallow clouds. She glows in the dim light, glimmering just out of sight. There's nothing I want more than to see her—truly see her—but in my condition, that's tantamount to suicide. I'll settle for the grass by my feet. The blades rustle in the breeze like ripples in a pond.

"Lay it on me," she says. I can't deny her ability. She's the sharpest tool in this shack called Destiny Islands—aside from Naminé. If anyone knows how to deal with this problem, it's her.

"If I wanted to get someone to spill his guts, how would I do it?" Destiny Elementary was a dead end and I don't want today to be a total waste. I can still salvage it by solving one other mystery; it's just a matter of prying the answer out of the cold, reluctant hands of my cousin.

"Are you talking about Roxas?" I told you she was sharp.

"How'd you figure?"

"I sensed that he was hiding something but…"

"But what?"

"I didn't care."

I stifle my laughter. "Harsh."

"I had bigger concerns—like you." The hairs on my neck stand up. Any time she singles me out like that and I get the chills. "I wouldn't be able to pry it out of him anyways—not without giving away my own secret. You'd have better luck than me. Don't you live with him?" People can live together for their entire lives and still fail to understand each other.

"We just sleep in the same house. Besides, I only asked you because…"

"Because…?"

"Haven't the boys ever lined up to confess to you before?"

"Confess their love but not their secrets." She almost sounds proud about it. "Actually, you're the first boy to confess your secret like that."

"Don't remind me. It's not like I wanted to." Her shoulders dip a bit. "But I'm glad I did."

She laughs, the sound sweet and dangerous. "I find that honesty is the best policy. I wouldn't have told you my secret if you didn't tell me yours."

I scoff. "_Please_."

"Okay, I probably would've told you eventually," she admits, "but that doesn't change my advice. You may be shocked to hear this but not everybody loves me."

"_Impossible_." I'm not surprised. The more popular they are, the more haters there are. No one is universally loved. I'm sure Kairi has plenty of white knights to defend her honor though.

"Some people have said to my face that they hate me."

"You can't win them all."

"No, but I can try. Even if it hurts to hear it, I prefer to be hated upfront than have them pretend to be friends."

"Stabbed in the back one too many times?" A shadow falls over us and I look up to see a thick cloud covering the sun.

"It's hard to be stabbed in the back when I can't trust anybody. If anyone's going to be the first, it's you." Her fragile voice lets me know that my betrayal is her greatest fear. "But that's never going to happen, right?"

In the drawn out silence, her shoulders tremble. I don't like being depended on. Responsibility is a heavy burden, but no matter what happens, I'm on her side. Nothing short of a complete cure will get me to betray her, and we all know something as convenient as that doesn't exist. "I'll always watch your back." Literally, since I can't look at anything else without getting sick.

Almost in sync with her relief, the cloud passes and the sun shines again. "Why don't you tell him the truth?" she suggests happily.

"Are you kidding me? He's the biggest blabbermouth who's ever blabbed his mouth. I might as well go sign up for Chain of Memories while I'm at it."

"You should have a little faith in him. He's managed to keep his secret for this long, hasn't he? What's the worst that can happen?"

"He blackmails me, aka, Naminé part two, except dumber."

"I don't think he's capable of that."

"As long as he has a secret, I got no idea what he's capable of. For all I know, I might be sharing a house with a psychopath."

"That's a stretch." Easy for her to say; she's not the one who has to live with the guy. "That's just the risk you're gonna have to take. I don't see the big deal. I mean, your secret's not exactly secret anymore. I know it, Rikku knows it, Naminé knows it, hell, I bet there are others who know it and they're just waiting for the right moment to surprise you. He might be more helpful than you think."

"Is this more of your baseless faith?"

"Nah. Just plain old fashioned optimism. You should try it sometimes."

I'm about to make a snarky reply but on second thought, I might take it to heart. I've been doing all sorts of crazy things lately: asking for help, putting my trust in others, confessing my secrets… I can't say that it's turned out disastrous, and I'm getting tired of assuming the worst case scenario all the time. "I'll try it then."

"Really?" She sounds shocked. Hey, even I'm capable of change. Baby steps though. "I mean, yeah. You should. Good luck, and make sure you keep your blinds open tonight." Tabby, where are you? I need you here ASAP. "See you later, Sora."

"In a while, Kairi." I stare at her retreating back until it disappears into her house. I can finally exhale. Every time she's around, I'm on edge. It doesn't matter if I look at her or not, knowing that she's there puts me in a state of heightened tension. I can't relax until she's gone.

I head for my house and the stairs greet me. A glance to my right into the living room and a glance to my left into the kitchen reveals nobody home. I look up at the second floor and it feels higher than usual. I take it slow, each step heavy and measured, and with great effort, I reach my room. I fall face first into my bed. School is exhausting enough but add an investigation trip on top of that? Game over, man. It's taking everything not to pass out. But I can't. There's still work to be done.

Kairi brought up a good point. Lots of people already know my secret. Branford has suspicions but who else has a keen interest in me? Oh yeah, Pence. I dig out his supposed "olive branch" from my pocket. It's the picture of me and Rikku. Does he know anything? Probably not. I examine the photo more closely.

The obvious interpretation is an intimate one. We weren't perfectly centered as bystanders were caught in the frame. Their faces are out of focus. If I look hard enough, maybe I can find Naminé hiding in the background somewhere. How else could she discover my secret otherwise?

Nope. Just colorful pedestrians. Hold up. Someone doesn't belong here. Who is this nondescript figure on the edge of the frame? He stands out by virtue of not standing out. I can't place him though. Probably just another tourist. I toss the photo on the floor. I don't want to add another mystery to my plate just yet.

When I came into the house, I didn't see Roxas and I'm not hearing anything from his room. Ever since I told him to practice, it's not unusual to hear him screw up on the guitar. I hope he doesn't do anything rash with Xion. Poor girl just wants a friend, not a lover. I'm more than willing to fulfill that role but I'm not good enough for her, apparently.

I'm tired but it's crunch time. I may not be covered in social grease like Kairi, but I take pride in my research ability. Lacking experience, I substitute with knowledge. I get up and set up behind my laptop. I open a browser and type in "Paopu Elementary Nora Estheim" in the search bar.

The top links lead me to the school's website. I skim through the articles and irrelevant news items. Give me something useful. I need contact info. That's the problem with publically funded institutions. They're always behind the curve, especially when it comes to the internet. I check for a staff directory. Bingo. I find her email address and compose an email, something straightforward and simple:

_To Ms. Estheim,_

_I am Sora, a former student of yours from Destiny Elementary. I'm with another student, Kairi. If possible, we would like to meet up with you. If we can meet during this weekend, that would be great. I hope to hear from you soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Sora_

And…send. Just as soon as my email is sent, I receive a reply. That can only mean one thing. Damn it. An automatic reply.

_Sorry. I will not be back until next week. Thank you for contacting me._

By next week, it'll be too late and my ugly mug will be broadcast on global TV. Is she somewhere other than Destiny Islands? If that's true, then I'm screwed. No, I can't give up. I gotta keep trying. I do a search in public directories. Maybe I can find her residential phone number. I just need to talk to her.

Twenty entries related to Estheim pop up in the district and fifty across the zip code. Don't tell me I'm gonna be doing this… I close my eyes and exhale through grit teeth. This is the part they usually montage over because it's so damn dull and repetitive. No choice. I'll have to call every number. Goodbye afternoon.

I go downstairs and pick up the cordless and ask myself again: do I _really_ want to do this? Not doing it would be a disservice to my goals, not to mention, it'd go against everything that I've worked for. But it's boring as shit and I'll probably want to kill myself halfway through. At least I don't have to do this for a living. I run back to my room, highlight the first phone number on the webpage, and dial it in.

One ring…two rings…three rings…four rings…and nothing. Between no answers, dead lines, and wrong numbers, I've got my work cut out for me. Like with anything mundane, I carve out a little rhythm that makes the task a smidge more tolerable. Idle minds make games out of anything.

After the first ring, I try to predict whether it'll be a hit or miss. If it's a dead number, the operator says it right away. If I hit a message machine, I let it go. If I get an answer, it's a man most of the time. There's a gender bias in these listings. I guess that's what happens when women take their husbands' names.

"_Hello_?" they say.

"Hi, can I speak to a Nora Estheim?"

"_Sorry, but there's no one here by that name_" or "_wrong number._"

Rinse and repeat.

I didn't think it was possible to have so many meaningless conversations—if they can be called that—with so many people in so little time. The funny part is when they think I'm a telemarketer. Some people hang up before I get a chance to say anything. I cross out the next number on the list. Can somebody please save me from this hell? My cell phone rings; suspicious timing with an even more suspicious caller.

"What is it, Kairi?"

"You look stressed out," she teases.

"Are you watching me? Never mind, don't answer that." I can confirm with my own eyes but I'd rather not. It's safe to assume she's always watching.

"Who you've been calling?"

"All my girlfriends."

She snickers. "Don't tell me you're using a phonebook."

"I'm not. I'm using an internet page."

"You really do it old school, don't you?"

"It's my only school." I consider myself pretty net savvy but I'm not much of a social networker. I'm aware my aversion for social networking is a severe handicap for net sleuthing.

"Good thing you've got me then," she says triumphantly. I hope she has something to show for her confidence.

"Did you find her?"

"Not exactly, but I got the next best thing: her son."

"Okay, that's a start. Where do we go from there?"

"Aren't you curious about how I found him?"

"No." I assume it's something along the lines of six degrees of separation. Girl's got connections. That's all I need to know. "But good job."

"I've chatted with him for a little bit and it turns out she isn't on the island."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Good news is that she's coming back tomorrow."

I breathe a sigh of relief. I guess the universe grants me some breaks. "Then we're gold. Just find out her address and we'll pay her a visit."

"Hold up. It's not that easy. You're not planning on just knocking on the door, are you?"

"What's wrong with that? We're former students of hers. She'll be happy to see us."

"Think about it. She's coming back from a flight. She'll be jetlagged and tired. You don't interrogate someone after they just got home. Besides, there's no guarantee we can make it past the front door. If she has a son, she probably has a husband, and they'll probably answer the door first. They might think we're suspicious or something."

I'm baffled by her trivial concerns. "I honestly don't see the problem here. What's the worst that can happen? _Sorry, but you can't see her?_ There's no reason to refuse us." Knowing my luck, that's exactly the kind of bullshit that would stop me. History is on Kairi's side. The last time I tried to bludgeon my way into a direct confrontation, I got stonewalled by Roxas, and with Rikku, I ended up relying on Kairi anyways. "Okay, let's just say you're right then. How do you suggest we do it?"

"Through her son. We become friends with him and get in the house that way."

"And how do we become friends with him?" I forgot who I was talking to. "Never mind."

She giggles. "That's why I set up a meeting with him tomorrow. It'll be after the concert." She just had to remind me. Depending on how that goes, a meeting with Estheim may become pointless. I'm impressed though. She's done a lot on my behalf. Teamwork sure beats doing it alone.

"You sure are something," I say.

"Don't I deserve a reward?"

"You'll get the satisfaction of helping me."

"I'm not doing this for free, you know. I expect some sort of payment."

"Don't expect anything until _after_ I'm cured."

"Is that a promise?"

"Don't get your hopes up."

"You never bite," she says disappointedly.

"You're too obvious." I'm not dumb enough to give her an opening but this is Kairi, the opportunity maker supreme. She'll get me eventually. I'm already resigned to it. Just not today. "Let me know when all the details get sorted."

"Will do."

"Remember, I'm trusting you on this."

"Who do you think I am? I won't let you down."

"You better not."

"I'd say bye but…" Here's the kicker. "I can see you just fine."

I hang up. Everything's up to her now.

I can't say I agree with her making things more convoluted than they need to be, but she might've thought this through more than me. I don't know the circumstances for Nora not being on the island. Is it a work trip or a vacation? There's no guarantee that she'll be home when we arrive too. If nobody answers, what do we do? Loiter outside like losers? And if somebody answers and she's not home, there's no way to be sure that they'll deliver our message. Kairi's right. There are too many variables to account for. We can't waltz in and start demanding answers.

I thought it'd be simple, but that's my social inelegance coming into play. Leave it to Kairi to conduct affairs with a touch of class. I may know more than the average person about social dynamics but my conversational skills are crude. I'm getting by purely on luck and improvisation. I need practice.

Kairi seems awfully insistent on her methods though. A part of me suspects she's doing something behind my back. Whatever it is, I can't figure it out. I did say I'll trust her, so whatever she's scheming—if she is—I'll just cross my fingers and hope it doesn't screw me over too hard.

I close the browser on my laptop. I don't want to see another phone number ever again. They'll be floating in my dreams, a nightmare of digits and empty dial tones. I wonder if there's a way to wash my mind with say…a picture gallery of kittens. That's not a bad idea. Maybe if I print out a bunch of cat pictures and tape it to my window, Kairi will stop acting like such a creeper. Fear the power of kittens.

I strain my ears and catch a few strums of a guitar string. Somebody just came back. I leave and take a few steps toward Roxas' room. He's improving—not that it'll do anything for his current relationship status, but it'll come in handy someday. He just needs to pick a girl with no baggage. Who am I kidding? There's no such thing here. Can't be a true islander without a checkered past to make things more interesting and dramatic. A squeaky hinge announces my presence.

"Not bad," I greet.

He's on his bed, the guitar cradled in his lap. He looks up with mild gratitude. "Thanks, since you're the only one who listens."

I close the door behind me and lean against his desk. I'd sit down but… I like being higher than him. "When did you come back?"

"Not too long ago. I didn't want to bother you since you sounded busy." Do I detect a hint of resentment? Jealousy's not a good look for him. He grimaces in frustration. "How do you do it, man? You make it look so easy."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you were on the phone with Kairi." Even a dummy like him can put two and two together.

"I thought you gave up on her?"

"I did, it's just…seeing you do it so effortlessly…"

Okay, it's time to put an end to this misconception. "Let me level with you, Roxas. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not a master pick up artist or anything like that. The truth is…girls make me sick." That came out easier than expected. Then again, I've had plenty of practice. Funny. Secrets seem like such a big deal until they finally come out.

At first, his face was painted with the same lovable look of dumb confusion that I've seen many times before, but it gave way to something almost…haughty. "So it was something like that?"

I'd almost be shocked if I didn't know he was harboring secrets of his own. "You knew?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Only that something was up. Nobody's that smooth without a good reason, except uh…yours doesn't make any sense. How do girls make you sick?" For a moment there, I thought he got smart. Glad to see him coming back to his dull senses.

"It makes perfect sense if you've been through what I've been through. It's just like I said, I feel sick when they get close. Why do you think I was throwing up in mom's flowers the other day?" He opens his mouth to answer but I cut him off. It was a rhetorical question. "I'm really not that smooth with the girls. All those times that you've seen me, I just got lucky. I want them to leave me alone."

"And you do that by…flirting?"

"I'm trying to get over my sickness. I could call every girl fat if I wanted to be left alone. By the time I'm cured, I don't want to be known as a misogynistic douchebag. It's just practice for the future."

"Practice?" he says incredulously. "Do you even need practice?"

"Of course I do. Rikku and Kairi have previous history with me and that's why we look so chummy on the outside. I assure you, every other girl wouldn't approach me with a ten foot pole."

"What about that one girl? What was her name again…Sarah?"

"She's just crazy. I don't know what her deal is." I seriously don't. She's an aberration among aberrations or a manifestation of my worst luck. "Look, the honest-to-god truth is… I'm no grandmaster of love, so stop looking to me for advice and for the love of god, stop talking about me to other people."

"Wow…" He is legitimately shaken. He has a right to be. The only way to shock him even more is if I peeled off my face and revealed myself to be Xion. "I never thought that… Damn. What about all that stuff with Hayner and Olette?"

"That whole deal was simple. Since she was moving away, there was no reason _not_ to confess. All I did was give him a push. Whether or not it worked was just a matter of luck."

"Then this entire time, you were just making things up as you go along? Does that mean all your advice for me was a lie?"

"Hold your horses. I wasn't feeding you bullshit, if that's what you're thinking. Just don't treat my word as gospel. Whether you fail or succeed is a matter of confidence, that, I still believe in."

"Then, about Xion—"

"I'd recommend against whatever the hell you're thinking about her. She only sees you as a friend."

"Of course." He lets out a strained laugh. "Of course, that's how it goes…" He averts his gaze towards the window. The sun's slow death allows the shadows to creep. I can't tell if he's disappointed that I'm not who he thinks I am or relieved that I'm finally being honest. Either way, I demand reciprocation.

"Now it's your turn."

"For what?"

"What else? Tell me your secret." A dark shadow flits across his façade. "You think I told you the truth because I was tortured by the guilt of deceiving you? Pro quid quo, my dear cousin. You owe me an explanation and I'm not leaving this room until I get it. Fair is fair."

He shakes his head in defeat. "You must think I'm stupid."

"And gullible." He seems to have arrived at that grim state of existential crisis where the only thing he can do is laugh miserably. Everything he knows is crumbling before him. I'd almost feel sympathetic if I wasn't so hell-bent on digging out his secrets. "Regardless of how I feel about you, let me say this: I owe you. If you hadn't come along, I'd still be stuck in my room dreaming of the day I'm cured instead of going for it. I haven't made this much progress since I learned to a call a girl fat. So whatever this secret of yours is, don't worry, I can handle it. And unlike you, I can keep my mouth shut if I have to."

"Why do you want to know so badly? Do you even care?"

"I wouldn't be so curious if I didn't. Just tell me. It'll feel better if you do." He's in agony, his eyes darting in every direction but mine. I can feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. Is this how I looked like when I was outside Kairi's room? Clouded in misery, desperation, and despair? I'm glad nobody saw me then, because I'm must've looked absolutely pathetic. "Trust me. I know what you're feeling. I've been there before." Those words seem to do the trick, and his shoulders fall as he sets aside the guitar.

"Okay, I'll tell you then. You'll probably find out eventually. The only reason I moved here is because…"

Don't draw out the excitement now. Come on, are you serious? It seems stuck in his throat. Waiting isn't going to make a difference, unless he wants to annoy the hell outta me. I'm more than happy to punch it out of him if necessary.

"Because what?" I ask in exasperation.

"Because I tried to kill myself."

Oh.


	37. A Reason To Care

**A Reason to Care**

It's all fun and games until somebody tries to kill himself.

I apologize. That's inappropriate. You'll have to forgive me since my cousin, this living, breathing moron in front of me, just admitted that he tried to kill himself—that at one point in time, he tried to become unliving, unbreathing—dead.

I don't know what to say. I'm out of my depth. If I say the wrong thing, who knows what he might do? Probably something dumb like try to kill himself.

It may seem like I'm not appreciating the gravity of the moment, but believe me, I'm being crushed by it. I almost don't want to believe because it's more convenient that way. In just one statement, he turned me into a dick. I know I've been a dick since day one, but I was a lower order dick, the fun kind that nobody minds because he's not being serious. All of a sudden, I've just been promoted to dick prime. Cause, you know, _he tried to kill himself_.

I just can't believe it. I don't want to. But why would anyone lie about something like this? It could be a cheap ploy for sympathy but that's super lame, even for him. If this was a joke, it's a shitty one. Since he isn't laughing yet, I'll take his word for it. I have to. Because not taking him seriously would make me a dick.

The sun outside fades and the shadows come creeping. It's dark. He remains still, covered in shadows, with hands clutching the sheets so tight his knuckles turn white.

And by reflex, a question escapes me. "Why?"

He looks up with an embarrassed smile. "I've been asking myself the same thing ever since I woke up in the hospital." His flippant demeanor doesn't match what he's saying. He must've seen my irritation because he starts making excuses. "It's not really a big deal. I'm past it. I didn't want to bring it up because I didn't want you to think that I was—"

"An idiot? Sorry, but that ship has already sailed. This is just icing on your shitty cake." He laughs uneasily. He drops a bomb like this and that's how he acts? Get serious. "How is this not a big deal? Isn't this the entire reason that you're here at all?"

His mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. I don't know why I'm getting angry. Maybe it's because he's forcing me to care when I didn't have a reason to before. You can't just conjure up a tragic past out of thin air and expect me to give a damn.

That's not right. It wasn't out of thin air. There signs were there and it wasn't like I didn't have suspicions. I just thought it was something small like having no friends, maybe bullying, or losing his first love to a douchebag—clichéd high school shit—not suicide. "I just want an explanation."

I know I'm disregarding proper protocol here. I'm supposed to extend my sympathies and understanding and try to comfort him, but it's being overridden by my scorching curiosity. I'm a psychologist first, and a therapist second. I need to know because suicide is the dumbest thing I can possibly think of. Forget about the excuses—legitimate or not. I don't' care about that. For me, it's never been an option. I'm the sort that will cling to life even if I've lost all my limbs, because living is the only thing I've ever known, quality of life be damned.

"There's probably something wrong with me." I cough. "It's not like my life's a tragedy or anything. I just... I didn't care. No. That's not right. I _couldn't_ care. I didn't know how. I had friends, but they didn't mean anything. Everything they did, everything they said—it didn't matter. Everything just seemed pointless. I couldn't understand it. People kept going on about this or that but it never made any sense. When you think about it, nothing really matters. In the end, we all die anyways."

Fatalistic to a fault; I can be depressing at times but he's got me beat on this one. It's also mindless drivel. "That doesn't answer my question."

"I know. It's hard to explain."

"Just try."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. His locks spring back after being smoothed over. I know that feel. Spiky hair's a bitch. "Have you ever felt like you don't matter? That the world would go on just fine without you?"

"Never." It's the opposite. The world will end when I die. I am the single most important element of this world—no, the entire universe. Why should anything else matter more than me?

"Then you wouldn't understand." He's right; I wouldn't. "The past, present, future—it's all the same. There's nothing there. In all fifteen years of my life, I've never found anything important. I do things because I have to. I've never wanted anything. I've never liked anybody. I was just a zombie, surrounded by living people." He chuckles, the sound dissonant against his words. "I always hear people talk about their hopes and dreams. It's just noise. I can't say I envy them. I don't feel anything; no joy, sadness, or anger—I'm just empty." The declaration lingers poignantly. "I didn't have a reason to live."

"Or a reason to die."

"Maybe not. But I thought that something might change if I did."

"Yeah, you'd be dead."

He laughs, which only makes me angrier. I don't know what's worse: that he tried to kill himself, or that he doesn't care that he tried to kill himself. "It's not like I wanted to die. I just wanted to see what it'd be like if I…disappeared." He looks outside the window where night has fallen. "I just thought… Would anyone care?"

Suddenly, I'm struck by an incredible bolt of disappointment. For all his bluster and meandering babble, his reason for suicide was childish. "You sick son of a bitch." He didn't say it outright, but I got the gist of it—he wanted attention.

He takes my outburst in stride. "I know. You don't have to tell me. I've already heard it from my mom and the doctors. It was selfish and stupid of me." I'm an idiot. Of course he's heard it before; otherwise, he wouldn't be here. "My mom was like you. She couldn't understand why I tried to do it. It's not like I wanted the attention. I just wanted something to change. I mean, this couldn't be it, right? Everybody else knew what they were doing. They had something in mind—a destination. I didn't have that. I couldn't find it." He lets go of the sheets. "You know what I see in my future? Nothing. So I might as well skip the filler and reach the ending."

I'm speechless. Who is this guy? I once joked that he could've been a serial killer but this is just as bad. He's terrifying. His mind approaches the world from an impossible angle. I'm usually good at understanding people, but he's not a person. He's a zombie, an unliving thing. He wasn't trying to die, he was already dead.

"Anyways, it wasn't my fault," he says. "I mean, it _was_ my fault, but it wasn't—just look in the drawer behind you."

I turn around and see his desk. I pull open the drawer. It's stocked with pill bottles. I pick one up and examine the label closely. Anti-depressants, the good stuff. This explains it. And now's there's no use denying it:

I am dick prime.

This entire conversation has been me trying to kick him while he's down, except he's already up and recovered. Clinical depression—no amount of pep talk can save him from a chemical imbalance in his brain. Once again, I am forced to confront the fact that our bloodline is totally cursed. Did my great grandfather piss on a witch's grave or something?

"Do these actually work?"

"Sometimes. I've got good days and bad days. It really depends."

I put the bottle back and close the drawer. If he had started off with clinical depression, he could've spared me this entire roller coaster of wrong ideas and misinterpretations.

I collapse on his desk chair. I've been standing up this entire time. It was just an intimidation tactic to force the truth out but now I'm just tired. He remains on the edge on the bed, acting nonchalant about the whole thing. "So you're already taken care of."

"More or less. That's why I didn't want to bring it up. It's not an issue anymore. I'm already working through it. You don't have to do anything."

"I see…" That's a load off my mind. For a second there, I thought I was gonna have to deal with a new can of worms I have no business handling. Suicide prevention is not on my CV, although I haven't been particularly successful in matchmaking or solving mysteries from the past either. Jeez, what _am_ I good for?

It's nice to stumble into a solved problem for once. Xion's warning sounded suspiciously like a new side quest, and considering the number of open entries in my journal, I did not need an extra distraction.

But with this new piece of information, things are coming together. His desperate, almost comical attempts at human connection finally make sense. He may have lost a reason to die, but he's still looking for reasons to live. That's why he's latching on to any girl he sees. He just wants to feel something, to be human, to be like all the idiots at our school.

I know that feel too.

When I think about it, he's been screwing with me from the start. There's dense, and then there's that special brand of deliberate denseness that he's a master practitioner of. In some twisted fashion, he enjoys the attention I give him, negative or not. There's gotta be healthier ways of attention whoring.

"Okay. Fine. You're working through it," I concede. "The only thing I want to know is... Are you ever going to do it again?"

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "Some days, I feel fine, and on others, dying doesn't sound so bad."

"Please don't." He may be working through things on his own, but that doesn't mean I can't help. I don't understand why he tried to die and I'll probably never will, but I do understand why he wants to live. That's what we have in common: we're both trying desperately to be normal despite our handicaps.

"Unlike you, Roxas, I care. I can't stop caring. That's who I am. I care too much about the things that don't matter, and that includes you. You're not supposed to be important, but for some reason, the idea of you dying makes me want to die, and since I have no interest in dying, please don't."

I'm a selfish dick. I've come to terms with that. But I can tell when somebody feels bad, and when they feel bad, it makes me feel bad, and that's not cool. The only reason I want the people around me to be happy is so that I don't have to deal with nonsense that shouldn't have anything to do with me—except that it does. I don't have enough fingers to count the times I've been dragged into another person's problem. I care because it's the only way I can find peace in this chaotic mess of a world.

"If you can't care, then I'll care enough for the both of us." I look him in the eyes, willing all the encouragement I can muster through my gaze. "Don't try to kill yourself again."

Maybe it's my words, or maybe it's the drugs, but his eyes turn glassy. He lets his easy smile fall, allowing a peaceful expression to take over. "Thanks, Sora."

"You're welcome."

There's a pause. I can almost hear the gears spinning in our heads. We've bared our darkest secrets to each other and we're just waiting for the other shoe to drop. There's a script for every situation in life, but we never have enough practice when it's time for the real deal. We make do and improvise. Whether or not it works, that's up for the other person to decide.

"Sorry about all the things I've done," he says. "I know you get annoyed when I bring attention to you."

Ha! I knew it. "Was it all an act?"

"I don't want it to be."

For once, I agree. "It wasn't. You're still an idiot cousin I have to put up with. That won't change." So what if he tried to kill himself? We all make mistakes, some graver than others. One ill-fated decision shouldn't define a person, and I won't allow it to define him. I move over to the door and flip the light switch. The room brightens instantly. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"Do you actually like Xion?"

He thinks about it, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "I don't know. I think I do. All these feelings—they're totally new to me. I can't make sense of them." He's still in the adjustment period.

"Maybe you should figure them out before doing anything," I suggest.

"That sounds like a good idea."

Of course it is, because I'm the one who came up with it. "Love isn't always the answer. You don't have to force yourself. Just take it one step at a time."

That's what I'm doing. In some ways, we're in the same boat. We're not in a state to love anybody. My body won't allow it and his mind won't. But just because we're incapable of love, does that mean we are denied happiness? I don't believe that. Love isn't happiness. It's the other way around. It's when we're happy that we learn how to love. Roxas was attempting to skip the filler and reach the ending.

In fact, I think the requirements for happiness are lower than what most people expect. I only know this because I've barely met them myself.

It's friendship.

As long as you're not alone, as long as there's someone there for you, there's always the possibility of happiness. It's still love, but not the sort that everyone's obsessed with.

"Then what should I do?" he asks.

"You don't have to do anything, because you've already cleared the first step."

"What's that?"

"Find a friend—me." His face offers immense gratitude. "Just don't bother me too much with your problems." Yup, I just had to go ahead and ruin the moment. "But that's why you got other friends, right? Just keep popping those pills and maybe one day, you'll find a reason to care."

After all, it's the only thing I know how to do.


	38. Dragging the Feet Forward

**Dragging the Feet Forward**

It doesn't hit me until it's too late.

I messed up. I could've done better. Sure, I can go through life with false satisfaction, justifying every one of my decisions as my "best effort" given the circumstances, but I adhere to a higher standard.

It's only when I'm tucked away in bed do I realize that my cousin confessed to attempted suicide. It's not some embarrassing little thing that we can all laugh about once it's out in the open; it's a revelation that fundamentally alters how people look at him. It's not so much the attempt itself that worries me, but the reason for it.

I don't believe he lacks emotions. He might have trouble recognizing it, but no one is truly without emotions. Even sociopaths have feelings, although it's mostly of superiority and contempt for everyone else.

If I have to call it something, it sounds like apathy-induced depression. He feels guilty about being depressed since he has no tragic focal point, and this guilt just makes him feel even worse. Saying "other people have it worse" is pretty much the worst thing you can say to someone like this. Too many people try to make it a pissing contest. It's irrelevant. What matters is how _he_ feels, and that's it.

You see, I already know this, but I couldn't say any of it. There were so many reassuring lines that would've been perfect for the situation, but in the heat of the moment, such sweet words couldn't be further from my mind.

I can't really blame myself for not knowing what to say; anyone else would've been speechless —but I should always know what to say, regardless of how insane the situation is. It's what I've staked my pride on—being able to respond to anything and everything.

But I messed up. I forgot my lines. I didn't rehearse. I was completely lost, and my improvisation only carried me so far. I'll have to take the loss on this one.

Did my words truly help? Did I make him feel any better? Or was I just speaking for myself? There are people who, under the guise of helping others, dispense advice for their own smug satisfaction. I should know, because I used to be one of them—or perhaps I still am?

Putting aside my selfish worries, the only thing I can do now is continue watching over him. It doesn't matter if my words didn't reach him the first time. I can always try and try again until the scene is perfect. Until then, he's just gotta stay alive.

I fall asleep easily. I thought Roxas' confession would keep me up all night, but it's nothing against a week's worth of exhausting nonsense. Even though there's no school tomorrow, things won't be slowing down at all. If anything, it'll be worse, because Kairi has me all to herself this entire weekend.

At least at school, I can count us being separated. I don't know what prolonged exposure will do to me. I understand what she's going through, so I can't fault her for acting so clingy, but a part of me is nervous that she's gonna do something bold.

She's been well-behaved up to this point, but the weekend is the most dangerous time for a relapse. It's like giving a bottle of whiskey to an alcoholic. Can she truly resist temptation? At some point, she's gonna give in. Maybe not entirely, but she'll uncork the bottle, take a whiff of that inviting aroma, and maybe stick her finger in for a taste…

Okay, forget I said all that. That is a terrible analogy and I am absolutely ashamed for having made it, if only because of the startling imagery and its godawful implications. I have only myself to blame. I sincerely apologize.

After a somewhat tumultuous rest, I wake to the sound of shuffling drawers.

There are only two people bold enough—or dumb enough—to go snooping around my room. The first is Roxas, but since he dropped the heaviest of bombs yesterday, it's unlikely to be him, and the second is—

"Good morning."

Kairi.

I keep my eyes shut and have the covers wrapped firmly around my head. So this is what it's like to wake up in a nightmare. Feels sweaty. "What are you doing?" I ask, groaning at this unpleasant surprise.

Who am I kidding? I should've expected this, not that I could anything about it. Even if I locked my doors and windows, she was gonna get in somehow. Nothing can stop her.

I'm annoyed. Mom doesn't intrude into my room anymore, much less anyone else. It's all Roxas' fault. He opened the floodgates. Once you let one person in, everybody else comes barreling through. You gotta respect a teenager's privacy. What makes her think that she can just gallivant around my room like she owns the place? Is it her ability to kill me with one sultry stare? I guess that's reason enough, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.

"I figured you wouldn't mind since there aren't any secrets between us now," she explains innocently. I don't know how you can make the jump from "no more secrets" to total invasion of privacy. "I found something interesting."

She must be referring to the porn mag stuffed in my bottom drawer. I'd forgotten about that. "That's not…mine."

It really isn't; it's my dad's. Since Mom scaled back her OCD and left me alone, it made my room the perfect hiding spot for all his contraband.

"This picture of me isn't yours?" Oh. She was talking about that. Crap. That's an even worse discovery!

"It's not what it looks like."

"You don't have to be embarrassed."

"Don't get the wrong idea."

"It was Pence, wasn't it?" Okay. It was exactly the right idea. "I know because he gave me a picture of you."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because I asked him."

That guy's a full blown mercenary. He just works for the highest bidder. I shouldn't expect any loyalty from him. "You sure you didn't ask for a whole album?"

"I'll wait until I can get better pictures." What the hell is that supposed to mean? "By the way, you have some pretty interesting taste in porn." She found it after all.

"Like I said, it's not mine."

"Excuses, excuses. At least I know you're not gay now."

"I could've told you that." And it doesn't mean you have a chance either.

"But you didn't. What am I supposed to think when you act like I got cooties?"

"That's because you do have cooties, and it's legitimately life threatening for me. Can you please get out of my room already so I can get dressed?"

She giggles and I hear her get up. "I just wanted to tell you something."

"What that?" I ask cautiously.

"Estheim's son...his name is Hope. We'll be meeting him around noon today."

"Hope?" What a fitting name, considering my circumstance. This Hope might be my best chance of meeting my teacher, and consequently, unlocking my hidden past with Kairi. "Thanks for telling me. So can you leave now?"

I can feel her hovering over me. I can't see or hear her, but somehow, I know she's there. I cower beneath my sheets for a couple more minutes. How long does she intend to trap me?

Screw it. I can't allow her to reign over me like this. I pull the covers below my eyes and peek through squinted eyes. She's gone.

I wonder if she was ever here or if I'm just hallucinating.

"Hurry up!" she yells from downstairs.

Well, that answers that.

I put on something decent and drag my feet into the bathroom. Even though Kairi's voice clearly came from below, I pull aside the shower curtains to make sure she isn't hiding in the bathtub. Just for the hell of it, I lift the toilet seat too…because I need to take a piss.

As I relieve myself, I'm struck with sudden panic and my eyes dart towards the doorknob. It's locked. I let out a sigh. Good. I'm sure she has a line that even she won't cross, but you never know. She has the uncanny ability to show up in the most unexpected places. I'm beginning to suspect she has the power to teleport, and instead of using it to fight crime and injustice, she's selfishly using it to bother me.

I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and start brushing my teeth. I think back on my plans to help Roxas that I hatched last night. I devised them partly out of guilt for treating him as an afterthought, but my guilt is mitigated when I recall my attempts to unearth the truth. Can't say I didn't try.

Now that the cat's out of the bag, I sort have an obligation now. I have a (entirely fabricated, and by Roxas of all people) reputation to uphold as the man with all the plans, and it's not limited to getting the girl either. Time to add "depression therapy" to my resume.

I rinse out my mouth and look at myself in the mirror. Just a little worse for wear; mostly messy hair and bags. I leave the bathroom and the door to Roxas' room is slightly ajar. I peer in. He's sitting by his desk doing…homework?

"This is the first time I've ever seen you do something remotely productive."

Roxas, a bit startled, looks up and concedes a smile. "Can't be dumb all the time."

"Why not? It's our privilege." If you ask me what I want to be when I grow up, the answer's gotta be a moron. Why? Because a moron is happy no matter how shitty the situation is. Ignorance is the true key to happiness. "How long has Kairi been here?"

"Not long…" He looks like he wants to say more. He thinks about it for a few agonizing seconds, hesitates, and says, "Have fun at the concert." I know that's not what he wanted to say.

"What are you talking about? Get your ass ready. You're coming with us."

"What?"

"No need to act so shocked. I already told you about my problem, right? It's all the more reason for you to come and act as a buffer in case Kairi gets any weird ideas."

"I thought you two were okay with each other?"

"Okay is the last word I'd use to describe our relationship." It's more a ceasefire. He begins to realize that my words from yesterday weren't empty promises, but carried actual weight. "Come on, who do you think I am? Didn't I tell you? If you can't care enough, then I'll do it for both of us. Your function as a reverse cockblock is just a bonus."

He laughs. "What about the tickets?"

"Tickets?" I scoff. "We don't need no stinkin' tickets. We've got Kairi."

"True." He sets his pencil down and contemplates on his algebra. "You got me."

"I know I do. I'll wait for you downstairs and uh… Try to hurry up. I don't know how long I can last alone with her."

"I'll take my time then."

"Jackass." He chuckles his way towards the closet and I take my leave. Our conversation just now was probably the most normal exchange between cousins we've ever had—as far as "normal" goes between two fucked up teenagers anyways. I'm not complaining; the path to getting unfucked has gotta start somewhere.

My descent down the stairs is a cautious one, slow and measured, with each step heavier than the last. As my living room comes into view, my eyes blink rapidly, struggling between two conflicting ideals. Part of me wants to know where she is and another does not.

I'm the dumb heroine in a horror movie, stumbling towards my murderous doom. Common sense tells me to stop, turn around, and jump out the window, but I'm screwed either way.

"Can you walk any slower?" My shoulders tense until I source her voice below me, near the back of the stair case, right in my blind spot. I'm in no hurry to resolve it.

"Just trying to gather my bearings."

She deciphers my reply easily. "You don't trust me?"

"I don't even trust myself," I excuse lamely. With my entire world conception unraveling around me, I'm playing things by ear. My friends are enemies, and my enemies friends. Who's to say they won't flip flop again? Just being careful.

"I liked you better when you were desperate." I wonder why.

"Who doesn't?"

"You were a lot more honest back…and vulnerable." Don't remind me. That's a chapter of my history that's better left blank. "_I should've capitalized_…"

"Your intent is showing."

She doesn't say anything, and I imagine her response, "_I know it is. What are you going to do about it_?_ Oh, that's right, you can't do anything!"_ Cue maniacal witch-like laughter. I take a quick glance over my shoulder to confirm that she isn't some manifestation of my Love Sickness. Her silhouette informs me otherwise.

That's good enough for me. I climb down the stairs and lean near the front door, making sure to keep my eyes away from her direction.

"I go through the effort of dressing up for you and you're not even gonna look?"

Do I dare? The setup couldn't be any more obvious, but this is Kairi I'm dealing with here. What if not looking is the trap? Perhaps it's reverse psychology, and she wants me to think it's a trap when it actually is, and—

Screw it. I look at her without any preparation.

Huh. She wasn't lying. She really did dress up for me. She's in a loose hoodie and slim jeans with a cap on her head. Despite her best efforts, I can't maintain my stare for long. At least I didn't puke instantly, so I'll give her a passing grade. "Are you trying to hide from paparazzi?"

"I'm just doing what I can."

"I appreciate the thought, but I feel sorry that you have to hold yourself back around me." She looks amazing either way, but the sky's the limit for her. I get the chills just thinking about her potential. Laguna must've been drooling all over his chin when he scouted her. A born star if there ever was one.

She laughs like I made the greatest joke in the world. "I'm not holding myself back at all. You're the only reason I can be myself." I can't tell the difference, probably because she's always been herself around me. What the heck is she like when I'm not around? I can't even imagine. "As long as I'm close to you, it doesn't matter what I wear. I'll put a paper bag over my head if that's what it takes."

"Then why don't you?" I ask immediately.

"Will you hug me if you do?"

"That's not happening."

"Exactly."

How prudent of her. I thought we were friends. Shouldn't she acquiesce to my request out of friendship? "Are we discussing terms of exchange now?"

"In a relationship, you gotta learn to give and take."

"I wasn't aware we were in one."

"It started as soon as you showed up on my doorstep."

I shake my head. "Your ability to revise history never fails to astound."

"It's not the past I'm trying to revise, it's the future."

And that, my friends, is what they call the finishing blow. She never fails to take my breath away. It's at times like these that I feel both extreme fear and admiration. It's a complicated feeling.

Roxas' disordered steps disrupt our comfortable lull. He slows down halfway, sensing the delicate atmosphere. "Are we good to go?"

I answer by walking out the front door. A mad scramble and the door busts open behind me. "Wait up!"

"Catch up." I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. And if I'm gonna be honest, I'm tired of doing too. My only option then, is to rely on others, but the fools trailing me are just as screwed up and miserable as I am.

Maybe…that's enough. There's strength in solidarity. On our own, we're idiots, but together…we're competent. That's about the best I can hope for.

Destiny Islands feels different today. A cool breeze ruffles my hair and relaxation washes over. I don't feel the hot pinpricks that normally accompany an outside stroll. The girls who come across my vision barely register on my danger scales. A daze has been lifted.

Before, I've always felt under constant attack by that disgusting feeling of being watched. It was more out of conceit than paranoia, but that's the thing about mental illness, it distorts reality. Depression and loneliness make us feel worse than dirt, and it doesn't matter what anyone else says, because in our minds, we are what we are.

It's a little funny that they both know my secret and I know theirs, but they don't know anything about each other. It's not my place to spill the beans. Today is about me. No more distractions.

The air becomes saltier as we descend towards the coast. The place is just as crowded as always. The sidewalks are packed with people and all sorts of delectable smells and loud noises pour from street side vendors and restaurants. Destiny Islands is a year-round attraction. There's no such thing as a slow month.

I've never really appreciated how amazing this place is. The sights I see on a daily basis are rare treats for the rest of the world. But today, I feel the awe that glazes over many a tourist's eyes.

"I'm really glad I moved here," Kairi says.

"Me too," Roxas adds.

I smile, not that they can see it. I do it because that's just how I feel. It's only because they're here that I can truly appreciate the moment. "You'll get used to it."

The concert will be held at the pier, on the Fahrenheit ferry. It should be docked somewhere between the luxury liners that are always coming and going. It's a colorful section of the pier. Every company sends their flagship cruise ships. We get nothing but the best, after all. They look less like boats and more like garish parade floats that glide on water.

An early concert on a Saturday isn't the worst timing, but certainly not the best either. It'll be but one event in a sea of them. There's always something going on, especially on the weekends. If there's anything Destiny Islands is good at, it's finding excuses to party and showing guests how to have a good time.

I shade my eyes and look up. An endless blue with a couple freewheeling white tufts. Ideal—perfect, really. I don't know if I should take it as a good sign or a bad omen, like fantastic weather on my funeral. I trace the flight path of a couple sea gulls towards the coast. All my tension escapes through my breath. I feel good.

"What's the plan?" Kairi asks, interrupting my moment of tranquility. "Does Roxas know what's going on?"

"What are you guys talking about?" my cousin interjects. "Aren't we going to a concert?"

My eyes fall from the sky and Destiny Islands becomes a tinge dimmer. "Why's everybody speaking in questions?"

"I'm being serious," says Kairi. "Did you figure something out?"

"Uh… guys? I'm lost." When are you not? I can't even tell if he's acting or legitimately confused. Just to preserve my image of him, I'll pretend he's still an idiot. I'm sure he'd rather have it that way too.

That's no excuse for interrupting though. I was having a moment, and one that doesn't come by very often. It's like trying to fall asleep with a party upstairs. Right when I'm about to drift away, it kicks up again. "There is no plan. I'm gonna wing it."

"Are you sure that's the best choice?" She sounds worried.

"What do you expect me to do?"

"You should talk to her before the concert. See what's up."

"I was gonna do that anyways. Besides, didn't you tell me you got a good feeling from her?"

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

Her worry is undermined by Roxas' confusion. "Why would he be getting hurt?"

Kairi sighs, audibly frustrated that our alone time was not so alone anymore. Good job, Roxas. I knew bringing you along was a good idea. "Should I fill him in?"

"He already knows my secret."

"Since when?" I detect mild irritation. She seems to think her importance is declining with every person I reveal my secret to. She shouldn't worry. Just because everybody knows Superman's weakness doesn't make kryptonite any less effective.

"Since he told me he tried to kill himself."

"What?"

"Hey!"

Oops. So much for holding on to secrets. I shrug it off. I didn't intend to reveal it, but it's not like I promised to keep it either. If I did, just pass it off as amnesia of convenience.

"Why did you…" I don't pay attention to Roxas' protests. While there are plenty of excuses to choose from, the biggest one is that I just don't give a fuck anymore.

"It's fine," I say. "She's cool."

"But—"

"The more people you have on your side, the easier it is to let go. I already know both of your secrets and you guys know mine. Let's be honest with each other from now on." I'm too lazy to tiptoe around the both of them together. Saves me the trouble of having to watch what I say.

"Wait… What secret does Kairi have?" Oops, I did it again.

I ignore Kairi's sharp gasp and answer casually, "She's afraid of being alone."

"Sora!"

I close my eyes and relish the soft breeze. I'm normally not this forthcoming, especially with secrets that aren't my own, but the whole idea of a secret has lost meaning lately.

This is just preparation for the inevitable. The day is coming when everybody will know exactly who I am. It might be today, tomorrow, or whenever. It doesn't matter. I can't run away forever, and when it happens, the only thing I can do is…

Embrace it.


	39. First Time For Everything

**First Time For Everything**

This is my first concert.

It's also my first…well, my first for a lot of things. You know how I am. I don't go out, especially for events like these. Big crowds, loud noises, and barely any room to breathe? That's a recipe for disaster—and a whole lot of puke.

The only real gathering I've been a part of is the school assembly, and I've always found excuses to avoid those after my first one. It's convenient to have a stomachache whenever they hold one, and I'm not exactly lying if I happen to be sitting anywhere near a girl, which is all the time.

I've never been to a concert, a parade, a club, a dance, or any event with a bunch of people together. It's why I don't visit movie theaters. The last time I saw a movie was in middle school, and that was on the last showing. It was a romance that went on to win Best Picture.

This is all new to me. I'm not sure what to expect. It's exciting and scary as hell—pretty much like hanging out with Kairi. I imagine this is what my first day of school was like. I've got butterflies in my stomach along with that tingly sensation you get when you wait in line to go on a roller coaster—not that I'd know since I avoid amusement parks like the plague.

It feels like I'm in one though. Lines of colorful triangle flags crisscross above me and bundles of balloons adorn the sky. They bounce and bobble in rhythm with the wind.

Before me is the Fahrenheit ferry. It is one impressive looking boat. It's crudely shaped in the form of a swan with its head tucked in, doused in soft hues of pink and purple. A red trim wraps around the exterior body and an enormous holographic spherical sail is mounted in the rear like a peacock's tail.

It's an elegant juggernaut that has no business serving a function as paltry as a "ferry," but that's what happens to decommissioned cruise liners that have lived past their trendy phase. Compared to its more modern neighbors, it's downright conservative.

As a ferry, it brings people from the main island to the smaller ones which are owned by resort chains. The main island is where all the action is, but for the height of luxury and relaxation, you stay on the small ones. Although each island has its own unique name, they're often referred to by the hotel chain that owns them. For example, Starwalk Island and Paradise Island, owned by Starwalk and Paradise hotel chains respectively.

It's noisy with the crashing waves, whooshing winds, and crowd chatter in the background. I realize that Kairi and Roxas haven't said anything since I dropped their secrets. I turn around for a very brief glimpse of their current state. They're both pensive. Better to be deep in thought than pissed off at me, especially Kairi…

I think I've made a huge mistake. I didn't consider the possibility of retaliation. I mean, what's the worse that Roxas can do? Kill himself? Okay, bad joke, but with Kairi, she can destroy me with a single touch. I was feeling myself too much.

"Hey, Kairi?" I ask meekly.

"Hm."

"You don't mind me… Ya know, revealing your secret, do you? When you think about it, it's really the next step to recovery. I can't be the only one you rely on. What I said to Roxas goes for you too—and me, so it's not like I deliberately—"

"I forgive you, Sora."

"Yeah?"

"But remember, if you take, you also have to give." She definitely holds it against me. "Oh, but you don't have to worry about that right now. Today is about you after all."

How reassuring. I mistook her silence for fuming when she was actually hatching up some scheme to take advantage of my slip. That's what I get for trying to keep it real.

"So Kairi… You don't think I'm weird?" Roxas asks. He sounds like he cares. Isn't he supposed to be unfeeling? I guess Kairi has that effect on people. The things that don't matter suddenly matter when she's around.

"I don't know enough to feel anything like that. It's Sora's fault for revealing your secret. You don't have to say anything if you're not comfortable."

"It's not that, it's just… What do you think of me?"

She chuckles, the sound louder than the sea, wind, and crowd combined. "I was wondering why you were coming with us. Sora didn't say anything even though I can guess why he would invite you. I guess in his own awkward way, he's just trying to help. If you need a friend, I'm here for you too."

"Thanks."

"Since you clearly understand that everything I do is for both your sake, can't you discard that notion of repaying a favor?" I request humbly.

"Now why would I do that?" she replies cheerily. "And just so you know, Roxas, Sora is afraid of girls, and I'm the one he's most afraid of. If I hugged him right now, he'd probably pass out."

"Really?"

"I'm not afraid of girls. They make me sick. Big difference."

"As for me," Kairi continues, "I get very anxious when I'm alone, and I'm still anxious when I'm with people, but the only person I can relax with, besides my parents, is this idiot right here!"

"Then… He wants to be as far away from you as possible, but you want to be as close to him as possible," Roxas summarizes. He breaks out in laughter. "That's crazy."

"I know, isn't it? And since we have everything out in the open, you'll help me with him since we're friends now, right?"

"Of course! Anything for a friend."

Everything backfired on me. Figures. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up while you still can. Consider this the last favor I do for any of you guys. Just for that, I consider us even. No favors to repay."

"That's not fair."

"I'm gonna have to agree with her," says Roxas.

"Blah, blah, blah—screw you, guys." I've had enough of this nonsense. The ramp to the Fahrenheit is right there. I should've just walked ahead instead of engaging with these fools.

The entrance is unattended. A simple sign to the side has "Gullwings" written on it. The ground is littered with tickets. I knew they were just a formality. You can't afford to be discriminatory when so many events are competing for attention. We walk up the ramp and stop before we step on the ship proper. I take a deep breath.

"Ready or not, here I come." Someone pushes me forward. I look over my shoulder, annoyed.

"You were taking too long," Kairi quips. The spot where I was touched suddenly burns. "Don't worry, I asked Roxas to push you." Then it cools down instantly.

If this is what I can expect for stepping into the spotlight, I might want to rethink my strategy. I spot the signs that lead to the concert area. The trail ends around the corner near the back end of the ship. A couple stragglers loiter near the rails but the deck is largely empty. Strewn over the floor are discarded tickets like windblown leaves in the fall. The crisp ocean air makes them flop with each breath. Either no one's here or they're all hiding inside.

"Looks like there's some sort of ballroom," Kairi says. I take a quick glance; she's reading the map directory on the wall. "We just follow the signs."

I chew on the suggestion. Something doesn't feel quite right around here. The place has all the hallmarks of a trap: it's practically deserted, unusually quiet, and literally smells fishy, courtesy of that passing fishing boat.

Am I being paranoid? It's probably coincidence, but even if I put those things aside, I can't ignore my gut, which has been churning like mad ever since I got on this ship. There's also that nervous static that's got my hair standing bristling. If it's not a trap, what can be responsible for this terrible feeling?

I turn around and nearly collide with the sun. "What the hell, Kairi?" I draw back sharply as the ends of my spiky bangs fizzle with fading heat. Is she…trying to sneak up on me?

"You were a little slow to move," she excuses quickly. "I just wanted to check up on you."

It was her—it was all her. I shake my head, disappointed in myself. Of course it was her. Now that she has distanced herself appropriately, the bad juju I was feeling slowly evaporates. What spurred my unease? Was it because of the implication? Being stuck on a boat with her and nowhere to go…

Stop right there, Sora. Just stop. "Let's just—let's follow the signs."

"That's what I said earlier, but you weren't moving…" she says, pouting.

"I'm moving now." I eye the railing and wonder if I can survive the fall if I had to, you know, bail out in an emergency. All the confidence I had been oozing since this morning dried up. What the hell am I doing here?

I gulp and try to spread out the saliva in my suddenly dry mouth. With each sign we pass, my internal temperature rises. I can't shake off the feeling that I'm walking into hell itself, and with that auburn devil poking my ass with pitchforks behind me, I've pretty much abandoned all hope.

After a couple twists and turns atop the deck, we descend a small flight of stairs that ends in a set of large double doors. I can hear murmurs on the other side.

"This is it, isn't it?" Roxas says.

I nod quietly as I grip both handles with my hands. They're brass with contoured engravings. I can almost see the steam from my hot skin on cold metal. "Open, sesame."

A blast of sound hits us in the face. Inside, a packed crowd greets us with excited chatter. It's that old fashioned rock experience—opening up the cellar to find an underground concert. Wicked.

They're mostly kids our age, but there are a few adults here and there. Looks like Rikku is more popular than I thought, because this kind of turnout is more than respectable for an amateur high school rock band. I shouldn't be too impressed though, it's on par for course if we're talking about Destiny Islands standards. I'd say this on the high end of the bare minimum.

The venue isn't too shabby. Despite the pretension of being underground, no amount of decorations and dark curtains can hide the elegant underpinnings of a classical ballroom. The weathered hardwood floor is better suited for the waltz than rocking out, and the ceiling swells into a glass dome, allowing ample sunlight in.

On the opposite end of the hall is a raised platform covered by curtains—the stage. Most of the people are congregated around there. It's a big ballroom, enough to fit a couple basketball courts, so while there are dozens of people in here, they fill up about a third of the ballroom.

"Isn't this kind of fancy?" Roxas wonders out loud.

Once the initial awe wears off, I can see how everything was put together. If Rikku's father is the captain of the ferry, I can see how his connections help for the venue, and when we consider that Captain Cid used to be a part of the band, we can assume that he has connections in the music industry too. By calling in favors, he probably commands generous terms for rates and borrowing equipment. What we're seeing are high production values derived from effort, not pure cash money.

"This is Destiny Islands." The answer seems to satisfy them both. If there's one thing they've learned about this place, it's that we always go all out. No exceptions.

"You'd think they've been doing this for ages," says Kairi. "It doesn't feel like a first time concert." Her comment vaguely resembles a backhanded compliment. I recall the altercation between her and Rikku the other day. Am I reading too much into it?

"Hey guys! Ya here for da concert?" The boisterous greeting belongs to a shirtless guy with a blonde mohawk. Correction: almost shirtless, because he had the decency to wear a yellow sleeveless vest. He has your typical islander build, tan, toned, and tattooed with tribal patterns across his chest and arms. He's got multiple earrings and sort of looks like a dumb punk. Wait a sec, I know this guy. His eyes widen with mine. "Sora!"

I never thought I'd see this guy again, but there's no reason I shouldn't since I started hanging out with his sister lately. You can say he's the reason for all this. "Brother."

"Brother?" the two behind me echo.

"That's literally his name," I explain. They give me confused looks and I shrug. Even as a kid, I thought it was kind of funny.

"Long time no see! Sis told me to look out for ya. These ya friends?"

I nod. "My cousin, Roxas, and my—my neighbor, Kairi."

Kairi makes a disapproving click of her tongue at my introduction. Brother gapes at her. No matter how much she tries to hide it, she's too beautiful. She needs to take dressing lessons from Naminé. It's not until I move into his sight line that he recovers.

"That's great!" Brother grins brightly and spreads out his arms. "Then let me welcome ya to the Gullwing's inaug—inaugo—"

"Inaugural?"

"—the first ever concert!" I never thought of him as a particularly bright child, and I guess that still holds true today.

"Are you like the bouncer or something?"

He nods his head. "Gotta make sure nobody messes it up for sis and Yunie's big day." I tilt my head at his nickname for Yuna. "We cousins!" That explains it. His eyes light up as he remembers something. "Sis wants to see you backstage."

"Can we come?" Kairi asks.

"No," I answer, cutting off a likely "yes" from Brother. I can already see the stars forming in his eyes.

"Why not?"

"Do I have to remind you what happened the last time you two met?"

"Um… Hehe."

"Of course you can come!" Brother looks at me. "Why can't she come?"

"No, he's right," Kairi says. She grabs Roxas' arm, eliciting a soft squeak from him. "We'll hang back and wait for you."

"You don't have to listen to him. The backstage is totally open for you," Brother says eagerly.

"You don't want to keep Rikku waiting, do you?" I ask firmly. "Kairi's not going anywhere." Not as long as I'm here. "So can we get a move on already?"

"Sure. Ya. Okay. Let's go." He moves quickly, probably so he can return to Kairi as soon as possible.

I take a parting glance at my cousin and Kairi. He gives me a weak wave while Kairi smiles brightly. I shiver and speed up my pace. I follow Brother along the edge of the room towards the stage. As we pass the crowd, I catch familiar faces from school. We finally hit a door with a window. I can see stairs on the other side.

"Through here is the backstage." He unlocks it with a key and opens the door for me.

"Thanks." I walk through but he continues holding the door.

"Hey, Sora."

"What is it?"

"Your neighbor's hot."

"Okay?"

"Why did we ever stop hanging out?"

"Time, I guess."

"We should hang out again sometime. See ya!" He does a small salute and runs off towards the ballroom entrance. The door closes on its own softly.

I watch the crowd mingle through the door window. I didn't expect a second chance for friendship, even if it was proposed for less than honorable motives. I debate if there's any merit to accepting it. It's not like we had a falling out. It's just that my worsening condition demanded distance from all forms of social contact.

If we meet again, I'll give it due consideration. Otherwise, I'll just chalk this meeting up as a cameo. I turn around and walk up the stairs. It's a narrow hallway with white brick walls. I follow the winding path until it opens up into a big space littered with racks, props, and equipment. A couple staff people hurriedly walk to and fro. I scan the area and spot a trio of girls getting ready to rock.

As if sensing my eyes, Rikku turns to me and explodes with excitement. "Sora!"

She skips towards me, the guitar swaying from her shoulders. She's dressed in her usual revealing outfit—those classic bikini threads—with the exception of two small angel wings on her back. Cute. "You came."

"Yeah. I did." Not like I had much choice. Now hit me with your best shot. On second thought, don't.

"I'm glad you're here."

I want to reply with something smarmy, but the look on her face stops me—it's genuine heartfelt gratitude. Recent events have shown that I'm not a very good judge of character, but liars don't lie all the time and honest people don't always tell the truth. In this moment, I believe her.

Instead of bringing up the elephant in the room, I let it go. Whatever may happen, will happen, regardless of how much I try to prepare against it. Whether my faith will be rewarded or betrayed… It doesn't matter. People choose how they want to feel. I'm tired of being suspicious of everybody. Even if it backfires, I won't regret putting my trust in her. This is my resolve.

"Me too." I catch our silhouettes in the dresser mirrors against the wall. Light stands illuminate racks of outfits. Above us is a grid of steel girders attached with spotlights, along with a bevy of ropes, pulleys, and weights. The floor is crawling with cables, most of them connected to a giant black box that I assume is the primary sound system.

This is the product of her efforts. I've stepped into her world, and this concert is a culmination of her story. I'm just a mere spectator. The world's getting bigger. It used to be just me, but now there's Rikku, Roxas, and of course, Kairi.

I thought that today was going to be all about me; I was wrong. It's about her, and if she wants to make me a part of this, that'll be my cue to do what I do best: be myself.

"Are you nervous?"

She makes a discomforting smile and taps her toes. "A little bit."

"There's a decent sized crowd out there."

"I haven't looked."

"But you can hear them, right?" The crowd chatter permeates the stage; I can even feel the floor vibrate.

"There's a reason why I'm only a little nervous. If I look now, I'll probably freak out for reals."

"I like you when you're nervous." She gives me a dirty look and I chuckle. "You'll have to face them eventually.

"I will. When the time comes." Good advice for me too.

"I never knew you were so popular."

She laughs. "I'm not. Did you forget about the other two in our band?"

I shrug it off. "Don't shortchange yourself. You got me to come, didn't you?"

She grins appreciatively.

"Rikku!" Yuna calls out. "You ready?"

"Be right there!" She gives me a sad smile, mixed with regret and apology. "Gotta run but… Stick around. There's something in the show for you."

My hair stands on end—oh wait, it's always doing that. "What is it."

"You'll just have to find out." She winks and walks back to her band. "See me after the show!"

Depending on the surprise, she may be the last person that I'd want to see—no, I can't think like that. I've already placed my faith in her. The only thing I can do now is support her. "Break a leg!"

She raises her fist in response, but the triumphant action is interrupted by a stumble. Be careful, I didn't mean it literally. It puts a smile on my face though, because I'm a dick like that. I enjoy watching other people stumble, only because I'm always stumbling myself. Glad to know I'm not alone.

My cell phone shakes in my pocket. It's a text from Kairi.

**Kairi: concerts bout to start. we left side of ballroom, right side from stage angle**

It's not a very specific text. I walk towards the red curtains and peek out from the edge. I spot her easily. Even in this thick crowd, my senses are too attuned to her. All I have to do is follow the burning sensation.

It's kind of cool in a way, like having a sixth sense, but it's not consistent. Sometimes, I sense her from miles away, and other times, it fails completely and she sneaks up on me.

I suspect it has less to do with my perception and more with her abilities. If she wants to be found, then she'll beam her signal at me from wherever. If she wants to disappear, I'll be damned if I can find her. I swear her list of superpowers is growing by the minute.

I mark their spot in my mental map and return the way I came in, through the winding backstage corridors. The narrow white halls feel a little claustrophobic, made worse by the locked doors on each side. I have a habit of twisting knobs—I like to know my escape options.

I exit through the windowed door that Brother opened for me. I check the doorknob, and sure enough, it's locked.

How am I supposed to see Rikku after the concert? I guess I can look for Brother when the concert's over. It shouldn't be too hard to find a shirtless guy in here. I check the crowd and take back the thought. Going shirtless seems to be in vogue today, and I'm not just talking about the guys.

I'm not a fan of where fashion on Destiny Islands is headed these days. It's like the industry finally discovered the saying, "less is more."

Considering how revealing these tops are, I wonder why the girls bother putting anything on at all. I can see everything but the nipples just fine. They might as well roll with bras only. There's probably an argument about modesty in there, but if a thin layer of fabric is enough to prevent girls from being total exhibitionists, who am I to complain? Let's just call it what it is: a cynical attempt to draw more visitors to the islands.

I'd normally be reeling back from the collective force of such concentrated flesh, but constant exposure to Kairi has rendered them impotent. I recognize their beauty, but I hardly feel a thing. This is probably what being gay feels like.

I maintain an appropriate distance as I circle around the crowd.

The ballroom is dim. The glass ceiling's been covered with a dark tarp, blocking out the natural skylight. They must've pulled it out when I was messing around backstage. The crowd's getting restless. The air vibrates with increasing volume and excitement. It's about to start soon.

I take a deep breath. If she's not going to reveal my secret, what else can she do? Confess her love in front of this crowd? Ha. I'm not that conceited. No use thinking about it. It's out of my hands now.

We find each other. Kairi and Roxas are on the edge of the crowd. Roxas looks like he wants to join the writhing mass of people but isn't sure how to go about it. Kairi just stares at me. I look away.

"How'd it go?" she asks.

"I surrendered."

"You _what_?" I stifle my laughter. You don't have to act so shocked about it.

"I can't fight what I don't know. It's too late to do anything anyways." I shrug my shoulders. "This concert's gonna happen whether I like it or not."

"I'm sure you could've done something if you wanted to." The implication is almost an accusation. "Do you really trust her?"

"Yeah." She smacks her lips in a funny half pout. "Don't worry. You're still my number one."

"I wasn't—" She pushes the bill of the cap down and turns away. "Never mind."

I blink disbelievingly. I didn't expect such a small joke to get a rise out of the unflappable Kairi. What'll happen if I poke her further? Probably a supernova. I shift gears by pulling Roxas into the conversation, "Ever been to a concert before?"

He shakes his head. "This is my first time. I'm not sure what to expect."

"You and me both. We're in the same boat."

Kairi snickers. "You're so cheesy."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I do, but it won't as clever if I have to point it out for you.

A low chord resounds through the ballroom, hovering just above the decibel level for sound to register. I barely hear it, but I can definitely feel it, and so does the crowd. Their chatter dies down in the presence of this odd sensation.

The curtains part silently, revealing three columns of light, and in each one is a pretty girl.

Front and center is Yuna, in a frilly blue dress with white ruffles. She's dazzling. A bass guitar hangs idly from her shoulder. In her loose grip is the microphone.

Paine sits behind a row of drums and cymbals near the right side of the stage. She's dressed in her usual black outfit. In her hands are two drumsticks, poised and ready for action.

Rikku stands on the left side of the stage with her pick on a string. She's responsible for the low hum. She eases off, and the crowd lets out a collective sigh of relief.

"Y."

"R."

"P."

"We are…"

"THE GULLWINGS!"

The crowd erupts in deafening cheers. The noise drowns everything, including my thoughts. My palms do little to keep the volume from penetrating my head. Every cell in my body is throttled by the vibrations.

Suddenly, the cheers are pierced by a single chord…and the floodgates burst with a series of percussion.

Paine's drum work is fast and ferocious. Her hands are a blur, and it's almost as if the music is trying to catch up to her. I'm blown away. The music washes over me like a tidal wave. I can't put a name to it at first, but with each strum and beat, I recognize the genre—power metal.

The song flows like a turbulent current, each swell accompanied by crashing cymbals while the bass drum fires off in rapid fire fashion. It is a relentless assault on the senses. I can feel it, see it, and taste it.

After the initial splash of power, the music softens into something more palatable. Power is supplanted by melody, setting the stage for a vocal show of force.

Yuna grabs the mic and roars at the top of her lungs. My mind goes blank. I've heard about this before—it's called the divine scream. It's a sound so powerful, it reaches deep into the depths of your soul and stirs up the possibility of greater powers. Surely, such octaves are beyond the grasp of mere mortals. We have reached the domain of angels.

"_I can see it in your face,_

_Sorry babe, but you never gonna make it there,_

_Cause this ain't no race,_

_And you headed straight to nowhere…_"

They're a lot better than I thought. When you think high school garage band, you don't expect much, but this is Destiny Islands. If you're gonna stand out, you gotta do it with a bang. The opening riff caught me off guard. It's not the stuff you usually hear on the radio. Savvy move. You can't just be good, you gotta be different too.

It's not a song people dance to, but the spirit of rock is alive and well in our animation. Heads bob, toes tap, people jump, and arms flail. I'm not much of a dancer, but I like to go with the flow.

"I never knew you got moves," Kairi says with a giggle.

"These aren't moves. I'm just being idle." She laughs. It's normally a deadly sound for me, but the music covers it up well. I gotta say, this concert thing ain't too bad.

"_Don't let your fantasy fly,_

_Put it out of your mind,_

_You're never gonna touch my sky, _

_So stop wasting my time!_"

Roxas is completely frozen. I touch his shoulder; he doesn't react. His eyes are completely glued to the stage. "You there?"

He snaps out his daze and turns to me with an embarrassed smile. "Oh. Sorry about that, it's just…they're really good, especially Rikku."

My eyes purposely avoid her. I feel like the second I give her attention, that's when she'll unleash Armageddon. I don't have to look at her to know why he's mesmerized; I can hear it. While Yuna and Paine are no slouches, the guitar work truly stands out on its own. It makes sense if her father used to be in a band. Call it a combination of talent and early training.

Now that I've had time to absorb the experience, I can hear the seams. The music is powerful, but to the point of overwhelming the lyrics rather than complementing them. There's always room for improvement, but any shortcomings with the song are made up by the pure energy in the room. The enthusiasm and passion on display is electrifying.

The song draws to a close and the crowd breaks out with cheers.

Yuna is winded but her ecstatic smile lights up the stage. "Thank you, everybody! Thank you for coming out here, it really means a lot to us!"

The audience reacts positively with screams of support with a few catcalls mixed in.

"For the next few songs, we'll be playing something familiar. We hope you'll like our version!"

The cover—an important part of any burgeoning band's diet. It must take a lot of time and effort to create something truly original. I'm sure these covers aren't just filler; they were probably valuable learning tools.

"What do you think?" Kairi asks.

"Good enough to make me forget why I was here for a moment."

"Just a moment? They were freakin' amazing!"

"High praise coming from you."

"Unless you've forgotten, I'm not from here. Speaking from the perspective of a normal girl, I'm kind of jealous that someone my age is so talented." Never had the term "normal girl" been so horribly abused. "Do you find that attractive?"

"What, musical talent?"

"Uh huh."

"Unless it can cure my love sickness, no, it doesn't mean anything to me."

"You don't have to be shy. Even I was a little taken by her talent. If it was you up on the stage, you'd already be dead by now."

I laugh to distract myself from the terrible scenario. "It's a good thing I don't have a single musical bone in my body then." The same can't be said for my cousin, whose eyes are firmly fixed on Rikku's…hands.

I smile. It's a bit ironic since she's the reason he has a guitar at all. Perhaps he's been inspired to take it more seriously? "What about you, Roxas? You liking the concert so far?"

He offers me a grateful smile. "Yeah. I'm glad I came. Thanks for inviting me. I really appreciate it." He looks at his hand and flexes his fingers, imagining the feel of his guitar. "Music's one of the few things that I…that I like." He drops his hand. "I wish I can be better."

"Practice. Take it one step at a time. And practice some more." Easy to preach, hard to practice.

Even with Rikku tearing it up on stage, she doesn't represent the pinnacle of guitar playing, not by a long shot—but he can feel the distance between where he is and where he wants to be. I know that feel. With all the guys mingling with the girls in the crowd, I can only watch curiously…and enviously. Our trio is isolated to the side, held back by our weaknesses, fears, and feelings of inadequacy.

But…it's not so bad. We're all here, listening to the same music, and in some weird way, I feel connected. After a couple songs, Yuna plays MC again.

"All of you guys, thanks for coming. We're going to take a short break, but don't go anywhere, because we're gonna bring out another Gullwing original! See ya soon!"

My legs give out and I fall to the floor. Fatigue and hunger ambush me when excitement leaves. I've got too much tension and I didn't have anything to eat this morning. I should've gotten some cereal.

The Gullwings exit stage left as the curtains close. The crowd spreads out a little, allowing room for people to sit down. Phones are whipped out, photos are taken, and chatter takes hold of the air.

"You okay?" Kairi asks. Her figure looms over me. I keep my eyes on the ground.

"Just tired and hungry." I feel like crap, but it's probably nothing compared to what Rikku's feeling. It must be exhausting to perform for such a huge crowd.

"Want me to get something for you?" she offers. "I think we passed a couple food vendors on the deck."

As much as the idea of owing Kairi something scares the shit out of me, I don't think she's malicious enough to exploit my present vulnerability. She can be overzealous sometimes, but she's got my best interest at heart—I think. "That'd be awesome."

"Sit tight." Denim legs pass my eyes.

Roxas sits down beside me. "What do you think so far?"

"Just waiting for the shoe to drop." I enjoyed the concert in brief spurts, but there was that persistent worry lurking in the back of my mind. It's impossible to keep it down.

He chuckles. "Kairi explained the situation to me a little bit. So Rikku knows about your secret?" I nod. "What makes you think she's going to reveal it?"

"I don't."

"Why so nervous then?"

"Because I don't know what to expect." Uncertainty is the seed of fear. Trust is the cure, but for someone like me who's never trusted before, I can only hold on to it for so long. It'll be a long time before I can trust someone unconditionally

My inability to trust mirrors Roxas' struggle to find meaning in life. When I look at it that way, his predicament becomes a little easier to swallow. Maybe I should brighten up his day a little?

"It's thanks to Rikku that I got you that guitar," I reveal.

"Really?"

"Her dad used to be in a band. The guitar came from one of his band mates."

He looks deep in thought. "…huh."

"Have you fallen for her?" It wouldn't be the first time for him. He seems to get a new crush every week.

His cheeks turn red. "I just admire her skills."

"You don't have to make excuses. She's got a lot to admire besides her skill. Anyone can see that, and I know you weren't just looking at her guitar."

He shakes his head in protest. "Seriously though… Since you're friends and all, do you think…do you think she'd be willing to help me improve?"

I'm pleasantly surprised by his initiative. "Is that what you've been thinking about this entire time?"

He scratches the back of his head. "Am I being stupid?"

Do you even have to ask? But in this case, "No. It doesn't hurt to try. She's got her own band to worry about though, so I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"I know, but still—it's worth a shot, right?"

His small determination brings a grin to my face. "Always."

I fall back and stare at the darkened ceiling. If I squint hard enough, I can see the stars. Probably just gaps in the tarp.

It's crazy to think I've come this far… I don't regret what I've done, but I wonder if it could've been different—if I had somehow missed a trigger for a sequence of events that would've definitely cured me of my love sickness by now.

Probably not, but when I consider how drastically this one week compares to the last five years of my life, it's hard not to wonder…

The biggest difference is this guy sitting next to me, Roxas. I was like a meteor shooting through space. Try as I might, it's impossible to change course, and it's not until I collide with something else does my trajectory change. I've gotta take this nudge and bring it home. One degree can mean the difference between hitting earth or nothing at all.

Something delicious tickles my nose and a hot dog appears. Cradled in a bundle of napkins, the hot dog is freshly topped with grilled onions and cheese. Delectable.

"Here," Kairi offers.

I dig in without hesitation. When I'm this hungry, every bite is the greatest taste ever. I make a weak attempt to enjoy it but my stomach demands immediate consumption. I gulp down a large and painful lump of hastily processed food.

Crap. I massage my throat before my air supply cuts off. Got it down! Damn, that was close. Now where are my manners? "Thanks. I'll pay you back later," I wheeze slightly from my near death experience.

"You don't have to," Kairi says. "Just get me something later." I saw that one coming from a mile away. I'd argue but I'm too hungry to care. I'll probably get a candy bar from a vending machine for her and call it even…

If she'd accept it.

The hot dog barely lasts a minute. I lick my lips and get up as the curtains part for the second act. Break time has ended. Kairi hovers dangerously close; she's probably waiting on a reward. "You get one brownie point," I award reluctantly.

"Not even two?"

"Nope, and you need one hundred brownie points to redeem for one cookie, and even then, redemption rates are subject to change at my discretion."

"You're so hard to please." That'd be true if I was actually pleased.

I'm spared the responsibility of replying when the Gullwings take the stage. The crowd reacts intensely, rendering further conversation futile. I'm a big fan of silence, but I'm also a big fan of deafening noise. They, more or less, serve the same function for me.

"We're back!" Yuna declares. At the rate of this crowd's reactions, I fear for the length of this concert when nearly every word uttered draws out a speech-stopping roar of approval. Let the girl talk, please! The longer this concert goes on, the more I'm gonna have a heart attack.

Yuna looks to her band mates and nods. "Let's get right into it. This next one's called _Give It Back_." As if sensing another crowd reaction, they start the song instantly.

"_The first time we met, you did me wrong,_

_You took something precious, but I'm takin' it back,_

_Things I don't forget, this time it's on,_

_There's no escape, I'm on the attack…_"

My stomach makes a lurch, the kind you get when you clear the first drop on a roller coaster.

"_So give it back, gimme back my heart!_"

And so I live to hear another song. I almost got fooled by the Forer effect (also known as Barnum effect, but let's give credit to the original). My unease makes a temporary retreat when the lyrics descend into generic lamentations of love that the masses can't get enough of.

It's bubble gum pop rock. Compared to their hardcore introduction, this is a little unexpected. They must be stretching out their wings, showing off their versatility like this. While I'm not the biggest fan of this kind of gushy mushy pop style, it suits Yuna extremely well. If they can't make it as a rock band, I'm sure she has a bright future as a solo pop artist.

"Dodged one, huh?" Kairi remarks.

"Are you kidding me? The gun's still pointed at me."

"If worse comes to worse, I'll take one for you."

"No thanks." I know it's just an excuse to tackle me to the ground. I'll die either way, so I'll choose the quicker option.

"How about me?" Roxas says, jumping into the fray.

He's the last guy I want dying on me. "Thanks for the support, but I not too worried." It won't be a bullet that's coming for me, but a stream of water…

Maybe that or a flag that says "BANG!"

The suspense is killing me. I came here with the resolution of facing things head on, but when the other side refuses to show, it gets rather tiring standing here by myself. I could be off doing more productive things like sleeping, or thinking, or even sleep-thinking—I guess that's called dreaming.

I float about in a mild daze, and despite the raucous crowd and rockin' music, their sounds drift through my ears like a sweet lullaby. This song really has too much sugar for my taste.

I don't mind. There's something about it that puts my brain in the back burner. It's nice. It gives me…perspective. Spend too much time in the trenches and I'll lose sight of the bigger picture. It's only at times like these that I can pull back and survey the field.

I see where I came from, and as much as I'd like to say I'm making progress, I can't—not unless I know where I'm headed. I've been jumping from one skirmish to the next without a true goal. I'm gonna need something better than just "staying alive."

The sudden shift in the crowd's mood jolts me, and I catch the last lines of Yuna's song.

"_So close to you.._."

She makes a nervous giggle, unsure of the reception. She's rewarded with rapturous applause and cheer.

Ah. It falls into place—the structure of the concert, that is.

The second act isn't a show of versatility; it's a reflection of Yuna. She sang it brilliantly because it's her song. Following that logic, the hardcore opening belongs to Paine. Three original songs, one for each member, and since two are already done, that leaves only Rikku.

Having realized this, my anxiety shoots through the roof. Kairi must've had the same thought because she turns to me.

"Are you thinking of leaving?"

I shake my head. "I didn't come here to run away." Never mind that I've been making tactical retreats all my life, but this isn't something I can avoid.

"Don't forget we're here for you," she says encouragingly. "Right, Roxas?"

My cousin nods agreeably. "Yeah. We got your back."

"Thanks…" For nothing. Your moral support is wasted on me. I prefer something practical over sentiment. What's practical right now? Probably a barf bag—I haven't met my daily quota yet. "Appreciate the thought."

They send me meaningful smiles. If they're gonna look that happy, I wonder who's supporting who here. My attention returns to the stage as they begin the next track on the playlist.

Three original songs and a bunch of covers—not a bad way to get some experience. It's been about thirty minutes so far. It doesn't sound like much, but performing for this long has gotta be tough.

My gaze shifts to Rikku. I'm reminded of how beautiful she is, but it's different. The last time I looked at her, it was under the dim lighting of The Secret Place. Now, she's lit up with spotlights, standing before all to see, covered in a light sheen of moisture, with matted strands dancing among drips of sweat.

My eyes aren't that good, and much of that image is thanks to my imagination magnification, but I'm sure it's not far off from reality. Aside from Kairi—no, perhaps even more than her—Rikku is the one girl closest to me. She's experienced firsthand exactly who and what I am.

That's why I can imagine her so clearly, because we've always been watching each other in an unblinking duel of wills. That's all about to change soon. She probably has no idea where I am in this crowd, but just as clearly as I can see her, she sees me standing here, my palms clammy and my teeth grit, anxiety creeping onto my face.

Yuna's singing dissolves into measurements of time, each note stretching every second to its limit. I wait patiently as the vicious cycle of song and cheer repeat until finally…

Rikku steps up to the plate. Moving from her position in the back, she stands behind the microphone in the center. Yuna takes Rikku's old spot. It's been established that Yuna is the vocalist, so this sudden development stirs the audience in a good way.

"Um…" The crowd reacts with loud whoops and screams. Way to bring up the pressure for no reason. "Hehe. I'm Rikku and, well…" Her eyes roam the ballroom. There's no way she can find me. As if hearing my thought, she closes her eyes and smiles.

"This one's for you."


	40. If You Can't Beat'em

**If You Can't Beat'em**

Expectations can go to hell.

I've always fancied myself a soothsayer. I've thrived off of guarantees, not probabilities. Things only happen because I allow them to. Arrogance is a mindset that's served me well.

To expect something is to submit willingly to be a victim of circumstance. It's when I don't know that I'm most vulnerable. At times like these, certain death is preferable over life of uncertainty. I won't let go even if it kills me.

The reality is that I'm already dead. I'm a ghost clinging to things that don't exist, like the idea of finality. Relationships had existed only in the moment. Interaction began and ended upon separation. Pay no mind after—a clean cut.

I was free from responsibilities, of apologizing for wrongdoing, of responding to invitations, of offering greetings first thing in the day—all the annoying things that maintaining a "friendship" entails.

Suddenly, people start expecting things, and I in turn adopt the same entitlement. Disappointment can only follow. If we weren't clouded by expectations, we'd realize we've no obligation and spare ourselves the trouble.

Yet, here I am, faced with the greatest uncertainty, all because I dared to reach out. We've long passed the point of no return. I can't pause or rewind. There's no escape. Whatever happens, I'll just have to deal with it.

I lean against the cold wall and resign to that merciless force known as fate. On the stage is Rikku, glittering in the spotlight like a revelation. Her fingers strum the guitar gently, drawing out a slow, gentle melody. "This one is called…_My Revenge_."

Certain death it is.

I let out a sigh and smile weakly. I should've known. I'm not scared, disappointed, or anything like that. Instead, I feel…relieved. It's a firm verdict. Not what I wanted to hear, but at least the trial's over. No more handwringing over hypotheticals. I close my eyes and accept what's coming to me.

"_You_ _remember the first time we met?"_

Her singing is barely recognizable. In place of her usual bubbly voice is something dark and husky, like a hidden shade. It's amazing what you might find when you shine a light, something like true intentions and ulterior motives. My body stiffens, bracing for the worst.

_We were lost in the dark, trapped in the closet,_

_Couldn't tell things apart, how the stage was set,_

_You reached out your hand, you found me and then… _

_That was how it all began_…"

To anyone else, they sound like run of the mill suggestive lyrics, but this is definitely…

A hurricane—the ballroom is jarred by an explosion of music. Guitar, bass, and percussion kick off a furious storm of rock. The crowd reacts instantly with intense fervor, adding to the overwhelming increase in volume. The music ramps up sharply, ditching the melodic intro in a plume of smoke like a rocket jetting off into space.

"_You couldn't hold back, it became a scene,_

_It all turned black, and they laughed like fiends!_

_They all made fun, it was the worst,_

_I wanted to run, because you were my first_…"

Even in this whirlwind of deafening cheer, her words ring loud and clear. Too penetrating is her verse, for they strike at the heart of memory. Disorientating images are summoned forth, cloudy and vague in their rendering, distorted by years of constant reflection. A flutter grows in my chest as my fingers tremble. Sweat condensed on the fringe of my forehead.

"_It was a silly game, but I still regret,_

_It caused me pain, and I can't forget_

_This bitter taste, and all my shame, _

_Too hard to face, you're to blame_!"

This was Rikku at her most raw. All the things she wanted to say, but couldn't before, gush out in an unrestrained torrent. Her heartfelt words are tinged with desperation, anguish, and fire. This is her song, but its resonance goes beyond mere coincidence. It's our song. A sad, twisted, tragic tale of trauma and the suffering we've endured because of it. It's not the words themselves but the implications, the conjuring of regrets and painful memories that sting and jab at my core, prickling like blood deprived appendages.

"_Over the years, through all of my tears,_

_You're the one that I hate, it had to be fate._

_That we met again._

_Acted like friends,_

_But it was all pretend,_

_And I knew that then…_

_It'll be my…revenge_."

Dread sinks in as deft fingers pluck guitar strings in rapid succession, producing complex chords and amazing sound. The audience is hooked, their heads twisting in rhythm to her expert tugs.

My demeanor cracks which each line. I had resolved to accept the consequences, but this pill is too bitter to swallow with a smile. In contrast to the elated faces around me, mine is dragged down by a grimace. Each word is a lash against my cheek. And it hurts.

For someone who has never been hurt, the first wound is the most painful. I'm paralyzed, all because I bought into the idea of friendship. It's not because my secret's about to be spilled that I'm so wound up, it's the betrayal. I've never experienced something so gut-wrenching before, and this coming from a guy with "love sickness." I can throw up a thousand times and it won't ever feel as bad as this.

I couldn't see it before, but the trivialities of friendship that made people do, feel, and expect ridiculous things made too much sense now. It's the same kind of doubt that festered between Hayner and Olette, the disappointment responsible for the fallout between Xion and Riku, and the humiliation that wreaked havoc on Rikku's psyche—it's that human connection, unconsciously formed, that carries great potential for happiness, anger, and sadness. It's the small things that change everything.

My slick palms touch the floor. I look up at the stage from the ground, my heart pumping wildly. The tempo slows to a crawl, setting up the next stage of the song.

"_Then you looked at me, and I could finally see,_

_The truth in your eyes, that broke down your lies_

_You went and confessed, got it all off your chest_

_The reasons you hid, and did all that you did_

_Was…_

_Because_…"

The hard edge in her voice tapers off into that warm and comforting pitch I've grown used to. I hold my breath because I sense something, a sudden change in the wind. I can't be sure what it is, but it seems like…

_You were always alone, for sins unknown,_

_And I apologize, that I couldn't recognize,_

_The things you've endured, I was such a fool,_

_I don't know it all, how deep goes your scar,_

_But I want you to know, that I won't let you go_…"

Rikku. Don't tell me you're—

"_Please_ _believe in me, you can rest easy,_

_Things will be okay, because there'll be a day,_

_When you and I can be…_

_Free_."

All air gets sucked out of the room and the vacuum is filled with thunderous applause. My body crumples from the weight of expectations and I feel something foreign well up inside.

Goddamn it. I repeat the curse in my mind. Goddamn it. It's the only refrain appropriate for my rapid fire thoughts. Too many things to process, too many perspectives to consider, but really, the only thing that registers is my gut feeling. I'm shaken, and I can hardly contain it.

Change happens because we have to. There's no such thing as a final form in life, only constant evolution. It's a never-ending pursuit for something better. I've been chasing this idea of a cure, putting all my hopes into this one singular goal, thinking that everything would finally be okay once I've found it.

I was wrong. I've been too slow to see it for myself, but Rikku's song affirmed what it is that I've truly longed for. My love sickness impedes not my ends, but my means, and despite this severe handicap, I've somehow found something I've thought long out of reach: genuine friendship. There isn't anything better I could've asked for.

Sheer terror is replaced by immense and earth-shattering relief. My body loses form and adopts a fleeting weightlessness. I'm dead. I've got no feeling.

Friendship is such a formless concept. I pinned it down with conventional and socially accepted gestures, but it's not about words of support, trust, or all those positive feel-good things. Not to discount their value, because they're certainly important, but the nature of friendship revealed itself to me as something far more primal: the comforting realization that I'm not alone.

All those years of weren't a waste. Whereas Kairi and Roxas gave me hope for the future, Rikku's song vindicated my past. Without those years, we never would've arrived at this crowning moment. Thanks to Rikku, I can accept everything that I've done, with all the justification and regrets that go with it.

Don't ask me to believe in you, Rikku, because I'm already happy I did.

"You okay, Sora?" Kairi asks.

I let out muffled laugh against my chest. My shirt is soaked. Well, this is embarrassing. I get up, keeping my head down. "I'm gonna go get some fresh air."

I move quickly before she can respond. It's not like I subscribe to outdated ideas of masculinity; it's just suffocating in here. Flimsy excuse, I know, but I'm in no mood for conversation. I pay no heed to the Gullwing's curtain close and find an exit door. I push through the doors and the salt air greets me on the lower decks. I lean against the rail in front and look down at the rippling ocean. I'm too high to see my reflection. Good. I don't want to see what a mess I look like.

Rikku's revenge…was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

I can't stop smiling right now. If I were of lesser mind, I'd say I don't deserve this—ridiculous, since debts of misfortune are rarely collected by life. There's no such thing as karma. Balance is achieved through effort. This is merely a function of daring. I put my faith in someone and was rewarded far beyond my wildest dreams. It's not that "I don't deserve this," it's that "I earned this." I guess people like me after all.

Seriously, who gets a song? I saw only the spectacular performance, but what makes me happy is the unseen, the effort of writing, of rehearsing, and convincing the rest of the band to play this song for me…

I'm a little off. The song is definitely for her. I'm just a part of it. Thanks to her hard work, she's probably won over dozens of new fans. To think I know someone that popular… I'm a superstar by association.

Goddamn it. My mood sours. That's right, the reason I'm here in the first place is because of a superstar. Namine's threat did not come to pass, and fortunately, I didn't do anything irreversible like sign a contract. What the hell was the point of threatening me like that? Whatever. I don't care about that bitch. Nothing can bring me down from this high.

I wipe my nose with my shirt collar. A tissue shows up before me. "Here."

Just what I need. I use it to blow my nose. "Thanks." I turn to the generous individual and stop. That bubble burst pretty quickly. "You."

"Me," she sings in affirmation. It's Naminé, and she's in her familiar dark cloak. The hood is pulled over her head, shrouding her face, not that I need to see to know who it is.

"I was wondering when you were gonna show."

"Did you miss me?"

"Hardly."

She chuckles. "I like to save my appearances." How generous of her to grace me with her rare presence then. I'm actually glad she's here; I demand answers.

"I called your bluff. You lose." She seems oddly unaffected. "What was the point of that anyways?"

"You know the answer."

I have a suspicion, but to have it outright confirmed like this is a little baffling and insulting. The only reason I can think of is to troll me. She's just fucking around. There's no play, no script, no grandiose plan, just tugging my strings at random.

"Nothing happened—" of the bad variety "—so what's your next move?"

"I wonder…" Her tone sends a chill dancing up my spine. She pulls down her hoodie and an unlikely face appears. In place of straight blonde is wavy brunette hair, and sapphire irises have turned into emerald. This isn't Naminé, but Stella Star, the girl I've seen on TV dozens of times. Star-struck and love sick at the same time, I'm frozen.

With one swift fluid motion, she closes the gap and her lips stops mere inches from mine, her hand over my cheek, almost caressing me. "In all fifteen years of my life, Stella Star has never seen so much as a blip in her reputation. Until now."

I close my eyes to ward off an impending attack, but instead, I see a flash and hear a shutter snap.

I instinctively lunge over the rail and cough up the soggy, wet remnants of a half-digested hot dog. Fuck. Never a day without one. I hack out sour spit and mucus and draw deep breaths to quell my abdominal turmoil.

Using the same tissue I blew my nose with, I wipe my mouth and turn to her tentatively. The hood is back up again. I'll take small mercies whenever I can. "What did you do?!"

Recalling the snap, my eyes search the deck in a daze until I find a man holding a camera. I recognize him. He was in the picture Pence took. No…even before that—I remember now. We crossed paths at the Secret Place. My grip on the rail tightens until my knuckles whiten. That's how—that's how she knew. She played me like a damn fiddle.

"Something funny happens when you're famous," she says. "You stand out. People gather around. They can't help themselves. First, it's one person, or maybe two, but that's enough to get it started. Once word goes around, they come running for miles. You get trapped and they start to reach out, grab, feel, and own you, hoping that what makes you special rubs off on them."

What kind of nightmare is she telling me?

"It's why many famous people go out under disguise. Even then, it's not always enough. I've always had a shadow following me, you see. You can't have the island's biggest star walk around without protection."

The pieces fit together perfectly. While her natural acting talent enables her to change into different personalities, her ability to blend and disappear probably came from her "shadow." I spare another glance at the mysterious photographer to see him no longer there.

"We have tools to protect ourselves from our fame, but what happens when someone is _only_ famous? Someone who can't change, someone who can't hide, someone who can't afford protection? Someone like, say… Stella Star's boyfriend?"

Fuck.

Me.

I'm speechless. She may as well throw me overboard because she's delivered the haymaker, the final blow, the ultimate attack. I can barely stand, my legs quivering from sudden weakness. Did she plan all this? Did she bring me to this concert for this single moment? Or was it one contingency among many in her spider web of schemes? How can I fight against someone with her vast resources, intellect, and cunning? Is there any point in resisting? It's impossible. Perhaps my only choice is to give in and sign her damn contract.

"Revealing your secret's the last thing I want to do," she says with delight. "It's what you do with a secret that matters most."

She's right. My fear was misdirected in hindsight. A revelation by itself doesn't mean much when I don't matter, but the secret becomes a lot more effective if I become someone famous. My association with Rikku and Kairi notwithstanding, only someone like Naminé could deliver the full ferocity of fame against my frail body. I was too blinded by arrogance to see this. It's natural to think that I matter since I'm me, but Rikku revealing my secret wouldn't have much impact at all—at least compared to this monstrous proposal.

"It doesn't have to be this way. The photo won't 'leak' if you do what's necessary."

Checkmate. No way out. She maneuvered everything precisely. This whole concert was bait from the start. She couldn't pull this off at school because there were too many witnesses. She introduced just enough to doubt to force me out here. This situation was impossible to avoid. Even if I didn't go out for fresh air, she would still lead me to my slaughter somehow. Not much else I can do. No point in putting up a fight if only death awaits. At least with surrender, I can stay alive. I sigh in resignation.

"No."

"I'm glad you—what?"

"I refuse." I won't let her win. To use Rikku to manipulate me, to distort my trust, and to impugn my friendships is not only despicable, but absolutely unforgivable. It's one thing if it's me alone, but to bring others into this is something I can't allow no matter the cost.

"Oh? Then you really want to be my boyfriend that badly?" She thinks she has me trapped, but a cornered fox is more dangerous than a jackal. The solution appears before me like a lifeline. Rescue comes from the most unlikely places.

"If I'm going to be famous either way, then I'll do it on my own terms." If I don't have the firepower to fight back, then I'll just have to acquire it.

"I'm joining Destiny High Times."


	41. The Hits Just Keep Coming

**The Hits Just Keep Coming**

Naminé is disturbingly unperturbed.

For an actress of her caliber, maintaining composure is as natural as breathing. She's either hiding her surprise well or I've fallen right into her hands. I can't see how it's the latter since I've chosen the only viable course of action, but maybe she's just that good.

It could be a classic bartering tactic. Propose something crazy to make the true offer palatable, even if it's still ridiculous. If her goal is to get me into showbiz, then she's got me. Doesn't mean I'm gonna sit around idly until my eight-episode contract ends—I should've signed it when it was four.

Then again, some extra episodes might be a good thing; gives me more breathing room. Any more than that is a big no-no. Things are screwed up when more exposure is a good thing, but Naminé is the bigger of two evils. Once I'm through with Destiny High Times, I'm sure I will have figured something out. I'm betting on it.

"Do what you want," Naminé says. "It won't change anything. Sooner or later, you'll be mine." Bold claims delivered with such conviction are terribly unnerving. I'm almost fooled into believing her. She takes a step back as if to leave, but stops midway, "Actually, you already are. You just haven't realized it yet."

And with those eerie parting words, she leaves.

A sea breeze sweeps through the deck and the temperature plummets by about ten degrees, raising a trail of goose bumps across my cold, clammy skin. I huddle my arms close to warm up. I'm not sure what happened. Did I snatch victory from the jaws of defeat? Or have I merely survived to die another day?

I stare blankly at the sea, hypnotized by the ocean waves and ripples. Nothing in particular runs through my head. I devote all attention to the sea-nery. Get it? Never mind.

I catch a line of yachts in the distance and admire their billowing sails. The gears start spinning but I shut down my thoughts before any schemes hatch. I'd almost forgotten; I'm not alone anymore. I should hold off on planning until I get input from Kairi—not to mention, Rikku's waiting for me backstage. Enough naval gazing, it's time to get kraken.

I'll show myself out now.

The ballroom doors open with a soft _whoosh_ behind me. I don't have to turn around to know who it is. There's only one person who'd go looking for me, and she gets awfully nervous when I'm gone—or so I'm told.

"Had enough fresh air?" Kairi asks.

More than enough. I'm freezing out here, but that's due more to my emotional devastation than the actual temperature. Just when I thought my old scars have healed, Naminé had to go ahead and tear me a new one. The salt air ain't helping, and I don't think she's gonna be singing me songs to make up for it anytime soon. I'll give it another ten years—if I'm still alive by then.

"I met Naminé."

"What?" Footsteps shuffle in search of the elusive actress.

"She's gone." The steps halt, and she settles somewhere close but far enough, not that I'm willing to see for myself. I'll keep my eyes on the water for safety.

"That's convenient..." she remarks with suspicion.

"How so?"

"It's just that I've never seen her even though we're supposed to be in the same class, according to you at least."

"Are you suggesting I made her up?" It wouldn't be strange for me to see or hear things that don't exist, much like Dad, but I'm sure she's real. My visit to Studio Starlight showed me that much.

"I know she's real," she declares. "I can't think of anything that would get you to show up at my house like that after all." Every time she brings that up, I wince. It's not my finest moment and she should forget about it already. "But the way you describe her makes her seem invincible." It's all part of Naminé's strategy. How am I supposed to rally support against an enemy that others can't see? "I think you give her more credit than she deserves."

"Trust me," I assure, "she's the real deal, and she's totally out to get me."

The statement doesn't sit well with her. "Don't you think that's weird? She keeps seeing you in secret and doing things in roundabout ways. If she really wanted to ruin you, she would've done it by now."

That's true. All she has to do is touch me and it's game over, but Kairi fails to understand that Naminé and I are cut from the same cloth. We're control freaks. Why take the direct route when we can take our time and enjoy the ride? It's more fun when it lasts longer. I'll skip the obvious joke.

"Did she ever explain why she's doing what she's doing?"

"No." I recall something about the shadowy world of showbiz but I was too busy getting owned to notice. "Even if she did, I wouldn't believe it. She's a damn good actor."

"So you never thought about it?" She's in disbelief. "That's why she keeps messing with you, because you never bother to find out why."

"I don't waste time on things I'll never figure out—unless you know something I don't. By all means, share your infinite wisdom." The seagulls circling above squawk loudly.

"This is just my theory, based on my years of being popular and well-liked" –why don't you rub it in some more— "and hated" —I take that back— "but it seems pretty obvious that she..."

"That she what?"

"That she likes you."

…

"That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

"How would you know? You've never been liked before." She knows where it hurts the most, doesn't she? If I were a normal guy. I see it as a compliment. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"You're right. I grew up not liked, but that's how I know the difference. I've watched my classmates for years and seen it all. I know what picking on someone you like looks like. They do it because they have no idea how to act."

It's sad to think that a kid's first reaction is to act against their own interests, all because they're too confused about their feelings. Adults are the same. In the face of change, they'd rather hunker down and choke on sand.

"Naminé's behavior is the opposite; there's nothing confused or reactionary about it. She's cold, conniving, and calculated. I bet this whole conversation was planned by her to make us fight!"

Kairi sighs in obvious exasperation. "You see, that's what I'm talking about. She doesn't even know we're together—"

"Oh, she knows."

"—and even if she does, she can't plot out all of our future conversations. She's gotten under your skin and your paranoia is filling in the blanks. It's not a good look for you. If you accept the easy explanation, guess what? It makes sense. You're just making it harder for yourself."

Her argument has merit, but I need evidence, not presumptions, before I can buy into it. "A: you've never met Naminé, so you're only speculating. B: I'm just some guy. There's no reason for the biggest star on the island to like me."

"I can think of a bunch," she argues. Hey, you can't say things like that without being challenged. I demand examples!

"Oh yeah? Then give me three."

"You're kind, caring, and handsome."

My brain blanks on the uncharacteristic description. Did she just mentally replace me with someone else? "Well, that's just insulting."

She laughs innocently. "Was it too much?"

"Just a smidge." By a smidge, I mean extreme, excessive, and extravagant overkill.

"That's my point. The reasons never make sense, and they rarely do. You like someone because you like them." Stated like the plainest truth there ever was.

I don't buy it. There's no such thing as total irrationality. The universe is fundamentally ordered—unless you want to get into quantum physics. That stuff is crazy.

"There's a reason for everything. Just because people can't explain it doesn't mean it's not there."

"Even if you're right," she concedes momentarily, "the result is the same. People act weird around the people they like. That's why it seems like Naminé has it out for you. Trust me, I've experienced it myself."

"Do tell."

"Back in Radiant Garden, the boys tried to ask me out in all kinds of ways. When I was about to decline, they pretended it was a joke."

Ah, the good ol' just kidding routine. It ranks high on the list of incredibly lame ways to crash and burn.

"They would send a friend to see what I thought of them first. Others would send me letters, send links to their videos, recite a poem—or even sing a song."

Are you trying to tell me something, Kairi?

"The worst was when our team won a big blitzball game, and then our best player asked me to the dance in front of the whole school." Ballsy.

"What'd you say?"

"No."

"You're a terrible person." I expected a retort but she seems to have taken it to heart. "Just kidding."

She lets out a half-hearted laugh. "It's not like I wanted to hurt them, but…"

"You didn't want to go out with them either."

Her shadow nods. "And when guys get hurt, they lash out. It's kind of amazing how someone who says they like me suddenly hates me, and they try to guilt me for ruining their lives. There was one guy who threatened to kill himself if I didn't agree."

I never thought of that before. I assumed popularity had nothing but perks. There's a new dimension of her past I never considered. The idea made me sick to my stomach, which isn't good since I'm already treading on thin ice. My grip on the rail tightens.

"That's real shitty."

"…when you think about it, isn't Naminé doing the same thing?"

Threatening suicide? No. But making me feel like shit? I guess. The theory only works given the broadest interpretation, but if that's the case, what the hell am I supposed to do? Go on a date with her? We all know how that turned out. It doesn't add up perfectly, and as long as there's room for doubt, I won't be convinced. For one, she skipped the part where I rejected her. I can understand if she was trying to get revenge, but we barely met this week.

"Whatever Naminé's doing, it's not because she likes me," I declare definitively.

"You have to remember she comes from a different world. It's usually the rich and spoiled kids who are out of touch. I've seen my share of delusional guys."

"Naminé is a little savvier than your average dickhead with entitlement issues."

"As your best friend, I just want you to be aware of all the possibilities. That's all." I like how she appointed herself with such an ostentatious title, but the worst part is that it's probably true; wait a sec—

"I think Rikku—"

"_As your best friend_," she repeats firmly. Okay. You got it. You're my best friend. No arguments from me. Just…back up a bit, okay? "I'm just worried about you."

"I appreciate it, but speculating on Naminé's motive isn't going to get me anywhere."

"Fine. I'll stop talking about it. But since you met her, what happened? You've been holding your stomach for a while."

"Like I mentioned earlier, Naminé was here, and she played me like a fool."

"How?"

"She managed to snap of a photo of us in a compromising position."

As if it couldn't get any colder, a sudden chill falls on my back. "Explain."

"She just got close and made it look like-"

"Did she kiss you?"

"I wouldn't be standing here if she did—"

"How close?"

"Close enough."

"Can you demonstrate?"

"What? Hell no."

"Why not?" She sounds hurt.

"Because—that's not what matters," I yell exasperated. "The point is that she got one over me. With that photo, I'll become an instant celebrity and there's nothing I can do to stop everybody from getting in my business. I'm as good as dead. I'll have to spend the rest of my life in isolation if she's serious."

"So...a couple inches give or take?"

"Stop getting hung up on that!"

"I'm only asking in case I ever come across the picture. I need to know what looks like so I can help you out," she says meekly.

"If you ever come across it, I'm already dead."

"Point still stands."

"How can you help me when I'm dead?"

"I can deliver an excellent eulogy."

"That's not funny."

"Okay. I'll stop now. But just so you know, this never would've happened if you just stuck with me."

She's gotta be doing this on purpose. She's not even trying to be subtle anymore. "You're a junkie."

She giggles before turning serious. "If that's the case, there's only one thing you can do." I hope she's referring to Destiny High Times; if it's anything else, I not doing it.

"We're gonna be co-stars." Just because I'm not looking at you doesn't mean I can't see your shadow doing a fist pump, Kairi. "You have Laguna's number?"

"Yeah."

"Can you call him for me?"

"Sure." I hear her dial.

I reach out my hand to receive the phone. Although cooties are a thing of the past, it does give me pause to put something of Kairi's so close to my face, especially something like a phone. What if it melts my cheeks? I touch the screen to make sure.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I'm gonna see Rikku after this." I move off the deck as the phone rings. We enter the ballroom to see the crowd dispersed, but not empty. The ship crew is already cleaning up. Roxas comes running up to us. I point to the phone before he can say anything. He closes his mouth and looks at Kairi. I don't know what she did, but he seems to get the message.

I head towards the backstage door and he tags along, turning us into a roving trio. I hear a click on the line. "_You have reached the_…"

Voice mail. I hang up and try again.

"Was she as close to you as you are to my phone right now?" Give it a rest!

"Can you like, please shush?"

I pull on the knob. The backstage door is locked. I glance around and see no sign of Brother, the only one with the key.

"Can someone fill me in on what's happening?" I can tell Roxas had been holding on to that question.

"You should explain it to him," I tell Kairi. That should keep her busy as I take this call.

I lean against the door and wait for a reply that isn't automated. Kairi explains my predicament to Roxas in the background. I don't like to do things on short notice, but I don't want to give Naminé any more time than necessary. For all I know, the photo's already in circulation.

She wouldn't do that—not yet at least. The picture gives her incredible leverage. There are hundreds of ways to use it against me. She can leak it, black out my face, and drop feed details to the press, applying pressure on me like a slowly tightening vise grip.

I don't even have to be her boyfriend. I can be an attacker, a stalker, or any number of unsavory labels guaranteed to attract all sorts of attention, both positive and negative, but deadly all the same.

"_What's up, Kairi_?" greets Laguna on the phone. There's a lot of noise on his end.

"It's Sora," I correct. "You got me. I'm in."

"_Sora? What are you—wait, can you say that again?_"

I hate repeating myself. "You know what I said."

"_This for real? Just give me a second_." The background noise fades considerably; sounds like he moved to a quieter spot. "_Just to confirm that I'm not hearing things, you're in for Destiny High Times?_"

"That's right." It's not like I have a choice. "How fast can you draw up a contract?

I can hear him lick his lips. "_Depends on the terms. There's royalties, contractual appearances, use of your likenesses, and other things to sort out_."

I don't have time to negotiate. I don't care for royalties since it's only eight episodes, although global syndication will add a lot to my total earning potential—I shake off the thought. Money's no use to me if I'm dead. It's the contractual appearances that are a problem. I'd like to keep my exposure to a minimum, or get rid of them entirely.

"What's the current offer?"

"_I've got a standard contract for eight episodes. It would've been less if you had come to me yesterday_." You don't have to tell me twice. If I had known this would happen, I would've signed up the instant he offered.

I tilt my head in Kairi's direction to draw her attention, cover the receiver with my palm, and ask her, "What kind of contract did you sign?"

"A full season. My mom helped me with me with the details. That's why she visited that one time."

"Ah," not that I was wondering, "in that case..." I uncover the phone. "Give me the complete opposite of Kairi's contract." She probably stipulated maximum exposure in as many avenues as possible.

"_What do you mean_?" Laguna asks.

"I don't want any public appearances, any press obligations or anything that doesn't have to do with show."

"_I'm not sure if I can swing that. All that stuff's part of the job description_."

"Sign me up for peanuts if that's what it takes. I don't want to be a principal, or even a supporting character. Just make me a cameo." This is my version of bartering.

"_You know I can't do that. You're a weird guy. Actors usually want more screen time...and more money._"

"I'm not an actor, so don't show me the money." If get paid less, nobody can complain that I do less.

"_If Destiny High Times is known for one thing, it's giving everybody a fair shake. Your popularity determines your screen time, so the only way you're getting a reduced role is if nobody likes you_."

That's my specialty. "Then make me the loser."

"_You're not in position to make those kinds of demands_."

"I'm not?"

"_If you were, you wouldn't be calling me._" Touché. "_I'll tell you what, if you follow the script on good faith and nobody likes you, then you'll get your wish_."

"That's no problem. I'm sorry to say this, but I lack charisma, have no formal training in acting, and I totally freeze up in the spotlight."

"_Even so, it's not up to me. It's the viewers who decide your fate._" I'll have to do my best to be my worst. "_How should I deliver the papers?_"

"Send it over to my house. Do I have to tell you my address?"

"_You're next to Kairi, right?_"

"Yeah."

"_Then it's no problem. I just want to say: congratulations and welcome to the show!_"

I hang up. Bastard had to rub it in. I hold out the phone for Kairi, making sure to grasp the absolute edge to avoid accidental contact. The phone is returned without incident.

"Are you going to sign the contract today?" she asks.

"Got no choice. I'll have my mom look over it." Not because I need her signature. This is Destiny Islands. Legal age of consent for contracts is thirteen. It's meant to fast track talented kids to stardom without parental leeches. "My mom has a good eye for detail. She'll catch any funny business."

"Is she a lawyer?"

"She's OCD." That's as good as a lawyer in my book. If Mom ever gives up flower arranging, she has a bright future in auditing. I try the backstage door again. Still locked. "Have any of you seen Brother?"

"I think he went through the door," answers Roxas.

"Great. How am I supposed to get backstage then?"

"You can always climb up the front and go through that way," Kairi jokes.

"Good idea." I take us to the stage. It's elevated quite high, with the edge at eye level. I look around for any stepladders but they're all in use by the cleaning staff.

"Give me a boost." Kairi gets into position. "Not you, I meant Roxas." She acts like she didn't know all along. Is she that desperate for contact that she's willing to become my step stool?

Roxas forms a foothold with his interlaced fingers. I place my foot in his palms and put one hand on his shoulder. "You ready?" He nods. I push off the floor and grab the edge, pulling myself up. I swing my legs over and I'm clear.

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" one of the staff yell as they run over.

"Go ahead, we'll keep them busy for you," Kairi says confidently. I have to admit, she sounds kind of cool. Those cookie points don't come easy, but she's earned it. Your sacrifice won't be in vain.

"Thanks." I disappear behind the curtains and probe the backstage area. It's empty—more like abandoned. Racks with bare hangers are left in a sea of disconnected wires. Where there was once a pile of audio equipment is replaced with clean squares on a dusty floor. I look up to see steel girders and pulleys. Nobody in the catwalks. I half expected to see Naminé staring down with a fiendish grin.

I admire the mess. The stuff behind the scenes has always intrigued me. The logistics are complex: you've got wardrobe, makeup, sound, lighting, staging, and a whole bunch of other things to keep track of. How it all comes together is a miracle. I expect nothing less from Destiny Islands. Our prowess for partying is matched only by our ability to throw one together. My musing is cut short.

"Is somebody there?"

I take those cookie points back. She held them up for a whopping two minutes. I scan the area for escape. I remember passing the dressing rooms from earlier. I duck into a narrow hallway and speed through. This looks like the dressing room hall since there are name plaques on the doors. Too bad they're blank. Footsteps rapidly approach. No time to think. I select a random door and tug on the knob. It's unlocked. Good enough for me. I swing it open and close it softly.

"S-Sora?!"

I turn around and—

_Thud._

Fleeting impressions of a vaguely familiar bed, window...and a room. I try to focus but the images sink into obscurity.

I come to a few moments later, completely befuddled. What the hell happened? Bright flashes squeeze through my eyelids. The light sets off a dull throb behind my head. Ouch. I instinctively reach for the spot and massage it. There's a bump.

"You okay?" That's Rikku's voice. I force my eyes open and I'm floored, literally, because I'm on the floor, and because Rikku is frighteningly beautiful up close. She's in a soft and fuzzy yellow bathrobe, her hair slightly damp. The scent of her shampoo worsens my disorientation. She maintains an almost safe distance but when our proximity registers, I shoot up immediately. Bad move; my stomach lurches.

"Be careful," she warns. "You had a...an accident."

I don't know what she's talking about, but I can feel it. A wave of dizziness assaults me and I hold myself up against the wall. "What accident?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asks cautiously.

"Uh…" I wrack my mind but nothing emerges. Don't tell me I just suffered another traumatic…case…of…

Oh.

I remember now.

She was naked.

Not completely.

She was in her bathrobe.

But it wasn't tied properly.

And I saw things. Two of them. Round, glorious, and perfect pearls punctuated by fluffy pink periods.

Oh god. The pain in the back of my head throbs powerfully. With a sidelong glance, I compare her covered chest with the exposed one in my mind. It's a perfect match. I search the room quickly, my eyes glazing over Rikku's form, and find the bathroom. I rush inside and pay my respects to porcelain.

"**GUAARGGHH**!"

That's two for two. And to think that Saturdays are my safe days. When both my greatest ally and greatest foe end up doing the same thing to me, it makes me wonder why I bother associating with people at all.

It's not like I've never seen a naked girl before, but it's different to see it up close and personal with someone I know. It brings up all sorts of ideas that my body isn't ready for. I must've blacked out and hit my head on the ground. Shit. This is my worse blackout in years. Even Kairi in a bikini has nothing on this.

"Are you okay in there?"

One of the good things about throwing up a second time is that it's not as messy. I tear off a square of toilet paper and wipe my mouth. I go to the sink for a rinse. "I'm…not okay. Just give me a minute."

"Sorry."

I splash my face and look in the mirror, which is slightly fogged. My haggard face returns my stare through the haze. I dry my face with my shirt. It's muggy in here. The shower stall is ajar and drops are leaking from the shower head. I sure chose a helluva time to walk in.

"It's not your fault. Don't be sorry when I'm the one who barged in."

"You didn't mean to." This is what I love about friendship; she understands me. I don't have to explain myself...as much.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" My action constituted an invasion of privacy. If she was Yuna, she might've screamed for help, and I would've gotten my ass beat by security, and if she was Paine, I would've gotten my ass beat personally.

"I'm more worried about you," she reveals. "Seeing you drop like that was scary. I had no idea what happened."

"Even though you know I'm love sick?"

"Seeing it for myself and knowing are two different things."

"I get what you mean." I know every girl has breasts, but seeing them exposed in real life is too real. The image is so vivid, I can almost touch them. My stomach protests the thought. I should think about something else, like cats. Those are cute.

"One of the security staff asked if I saw anyone. I didn't say anything about you, of course. What happened out there?"

I wobble up to the door, turn around, and rest my back against it, sliding down to the slightly damp floor. "I took an alternate route since the backstage entrance was locked."

"You could've asked Brother to open it for you."

"I couldn't find him." It looks like he screwed me again. First was the closet, and now this? I just can't catch a break. "But I made it here. You wanted to talk?"

"It's not that important. Maybe it's better if we put it off for another day."

The offer is highly tempting since I feel like shit, but I don't want to quit when I'm already at the finish line. In for a munny, in for a pound. "No, we can talk like this... Just as long as you don't open the door."

"I won't." There's a pause. "I wanted to hear from you...what did you think?"

"About your concert?" She squeaks quietly in acknowledgement. No point holding back now. "I loved it." I'm met with silence. Guess I came out too hot. I should add more spice to the fire. "It's the greatest thing anyone has ever done for me, no joke."

"If you're going to be that nice to me about it, I'm not going to believe you, you know."

I smile. "Being nice has nothing to do with it. I'm being honest. It really meant a lot to me."

"Did it really?"

"Of course. I even cried."

She presents an odd mixture of a scoff and a laugh. "You're terrible."

I'm aware of how insincere my genuine gratitude sounds; I'm just testing her. I'm pretty bad at accepting compliments myself. Although it seems obvious now, I could never figure out whether she was on my side or not. The time between our reintroduction and today is rather short; I'm surprised she could whip up a song on such short notice. Doesn't writing a song take months, or even years?

"Was that what you were always going to sing?"

"You noticed?"

"I had a suspicion." Even though I believed in her, I wouldn't have been surprised if she had betrayed me. That's just the kind of guy I am. No trust until proven trustworthy. Put it like that and it sounds reasonable, no?

"The song wasn't like that in the beginning. Meeting you again sparked a talk with the girls. They grilled me about it. I know they were doing it for my sake, but I hated reliving those bad memories."

"Tell me about it." Nothing worse than a dredger. Let's leave the past where it belongs, unless you're talking about my trauma. I'd pay good money for someone to dig it out for me.

"When I told them about how badly you screwed up my life, they convinced me to get back at you. That's how the song got started."

"Is that why you got close to me?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." On the contrary, it's a load off my mind. She wasn't motivated by nebulous feelings of "like," she was driven by plain revenge. "Unless you still hate me."

"I don't," she clarifies quickly. "I was trying to get material for my song but... I realized I never really knew you. I didn't know anything about what you were dealing with."

"That's on purpose. I didn't let anyone get close."

"It doesn't change the fact that I should've tried. I didn't want to be that person anymore—someone bitter, who still hated your guts. I wanted to change myself…and that's why I changed the song." She sounds guilty, as if her amazing performance didn't redeem those years of resentment.

Except it totally did.

"You still kept the title though." My Revenge.

"I just wanted to make you sweat a little," she joked.

"I did more than sweat, I damn near shat my pants."

"That was mean of me, wasn't it?"

"I probably deserved it..." Not really. It qualifies as cruel and unusual. "But I got your message loud and clear. If things didn't happen the way they did, we wouldn't be here. I don't have any regrets, and neither should you."

"You're right." A relieved sigh escapes audibly. "I'm tired. I spent too many nights trying to get the lyrics perfect." That explains the dark circles under her eyes at school. I'm not sure if I'm worth the effort. Who am I kidding? I totally am.

"Well, it paid off... Thanks." For some reason, I can only be honest when there's a wall between us. I went through the same thing with Kairi. Must be a confessional effect. But I'm glad. We finally understand each other. No more ulterior motives or suspicions. Just pure friendship. The feeling is almost pleasant enough to squash my inner turmoil.

"Just so we're clear, I come out as the bigger person in all this, since I'm the wronged party here. You should be happy that I've forgiven you."

"Fine by me. I've got no problems playing the bad guy. I'm grateful." This day is one I won't ever forget, for reasons good and bad. "I have to go now. You mind letting me out?"

The door opens and I lean forward. I turn slowly and see a clear path to the exit. She's hiding behind the door for my sake. "I'll see you later?"

"If I'm still alive." At this rate, that's looking suspect. Still lots of time to throw up before the day ends.

With this matter dealt with, it's time to move on. I walk carefully through the dressing room and make my exit, but not before one last glance of a meek Rikku peeking from behind the door. She's adorable.

"Later, Rikku."

And I close the door.

Concert's down. Time for the main event. It's taken me a week, but the investigation into our past must continue. This means seeing my old elementary teacher, Ms. Estheim, and in order to do that that, we gotta meet up with her son. Kairi told me his name this morning and I didn't think much of it, but never has a name been more appropriate.

Hope, you better live up to your damn name.


	42. A Small Taste of Heaven

**A Small Taste of Heaven**

Never forget where you come from.

Good advice for those who have made it big. Too bad I already forgot. I may not remember my origins, but my body does, and before my profile goes supernova, I'll need to find my roots quickly.

I search the backstage area and check the ballroom through the curtains. There's nobody except the cleaners. The coast is clear. I check my phone and sure enough, there's a text from Kairi. I learn that they're waiting on the pier near the ship's entrance. I make a quick escape outside to the deck and reach the exit ramp. I spot them sitting on a wooden bench close to the water's edge, next to a line of flat misshapen bollards. Only from this distance can I appreciate Kairi's beauty. The closer I approach as I descend the ramp, the more I'm forced to turn away.

"Wait long?" I greet.

I'm hit with sudden warmth, which means I've got her attention. I tilt my head to ward off the flush of heat.

"Not too long. What did you guys do?" Roxas asks. That's a loaded question, and the warmth gets warmer.

"Nothing, we just talked." I'll omit the part where Rikku knocked me out with her knockers.

"Is that all?" Kairi chimes.

"If you think anything else happened, I wouldn't be standing here."

She's forced to accept my reasoning and I breathe an internal sigh of relief. She changes the topic. "I've been in contact with Hope. He's waiting for us at Balamb Garden."

That's the first I've heard of this, but that's because she's been handling all the details regarding the meeting. I've refrained from learning any more since I've had enough to worry about...until now. Gotta take things one step at a time. They sure chose one hell of a meeting spot though.

Balamb Garden is the island's world famous botanical paradise, with a vast splendid collection of beautiful exotic specimens from every corner of the globe. It's one of the few places where Mom can relax and be herself. I just call it the park.

"Have you ever been there before?" It's virtually a lock on the itinerary of every tourist, visitor, and guest to Destiny Islands.

"No," she admits. That's embarrassing for a resident. This needs to be corrected immediately.

"It's a big place. You have a specific location inside the park?"

"The water fountains?"

"I know where that is." There are dozens of different water fountains in the park, but there's only one that can be called _the_ Water Fountain. "It's the Grand Geyser, the biggest one on the island. They even have a water show every half hour."

"How does that work?" Roxas wonders.

"With powerful jets and good programming. I hear it looks amazing, especially at night when there are lights. If you don't have any plans, why don't you see for yourself and come with us?"

"I don't want to get in your guys' way."

"That's exactly why you should—"

"Not go," Kairi finishes.

That's not what I wanted to say, but it looks like he's already made up his mind to leave with one step moving backwards. It's obvious Kairi struck some sort of deal in my absence.

"Whatever she's offering, I'll double it."

It falls flat. "Sorry, man. I gotta head out."

His determination is either too strong or Kairi made an offer he couldn't refuse. I exhale in defeat, accepting my fate. "Just don't make any more work for me."

He laughs in a not-so-reassuring manner. "I won't. I'll see you guys later." He leaves quickly as if running from a danger zone. I look up and wonder if bombs are dropping. It's just me and Kairi now.

"What'd you bribe him with?"

"Wouldn't you want to know?" she teases.

"I don't."

We head for Balamb Garden from Sunset Pier. The nice thing about Destiny Islands is that everything is close together. It may take some time, but you can walk to all the major attractions. It's why the sidewalks are as big as the roads.

For the prime attractions, there's Starwalk and Sunset Pier on the coast; Sky Plaza and the Isles shopping center; the Heart District, where all the high end shops and restaurants reside; Silver Lane, home to all the movie and TV studios, including Studio Starlight; and Destinyland, part amusement park and adult playground—which means gambling.

For the other kind of adult fun, there's something we call The Shade. It's a catch-all term for seedy operations that pop up in the "shade" of legitimate businesses. The locations change periodically and never stay in one place for long. It's an arrangement that allows our city to say with a straight face that we don't condone any funny business.

Except that we totally do.

Getting to Balamb Garden is no walk in the park, especially with Kairi dogging me from behind. We could've taken the bus, but they're always packed, and since it's the weekend, it's faster to just walk. It's been awhile since I was out here on foot. There's a lot to see from gaudy storefronts to sidewalk stalls. Music from different stores blend into a generic tropical jingle and smells from delicious finger foods come and go with the people. It provokes protest from my stomach since I haven't washed the bitter taste out of my mouth from earlier.

I'm doing a great job staying stable. After my two successive shocks, there's not much that can faze me, unless a girl assaults me out of the blue. Despite my incredible bad luck so far, that's unlikely—my fingers are crossed.

There's a degree of predictability to pedestrian traffic patterns. While there are a few mixed parties, most groups are monosex. Dudes roll with dudes and girls stroll with girls. I shadow the dudes, forming a buffer between myself and other girls. Kairi is a great help. By walking behind me, she gives off an air of availability, drawing more guys to our side. On second thought, she'll draw guys regardless of availability.

I shiver from all the stares of women looking my way. I have to remind myself that they're not looking at me, but past me, towards the source of their ire. Street jealousy isn't a pretty sight.

"How far is it?" my companion asks.

"A couple more blocks. We should be able to see it soon."

At the center of Balamb Garden is its namesake, the Balamb flower, which is this huge ball, about three feet in diameter, made from folded petal layers. In the spring, it unravels in a beautiful display of vivid blue and orange. The seemingly hand-painted natural patterns are well-known for the complexity and intricacy of its design. Mother Nature proves to be the greatest artist in existence, with man as a distant second.

After a couple more blocks fraught with near traffic accidents because of morons who can't keep their eyes on the road, we reach the park. Balamb Garden welcomes us with overwhelming greenery, with trees stretching out on both sides like arms spreading for a hug. There's no formal entrance, the park is accessible from all angles.

I haven't been here in ages. Mom used to take me here all the time. While she basked in the sweet sights and scents of nature, I was off playing like any other kid. It became a practice ground for learning how to blend in with my surroundings. I made it a game to see how many people I could elude. I had a particular high rate of success by hiding in the browngrass.

There's a lovely gasp behind me. "It's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."

It kinda sucks when you get used to amazing, but these reactions are nice reminders that I live in a pretty cool place. "Aren't you from Radiant Garden?"

She thinks my comment is funny. "It's just a name, and it wasn't always called Radiant Garden."

If I recall my history lessons, Radiant Garden used to be Hollow Bastion when it was under occupation. The name change was fairly recent and reflected their new independence. This all happened when I was like two. They've gone a long way in rebuilding since then.

I stop in my tracks when it finally clicks in my head. Kairi is adopted. Reno and Cissnei are Turks, and Radiant Garden was a conflict zone. Nakata is the name of the orphanage Kairi grew up in. Add it all up, and it means... "You lost your parents?"

"You just realized?"

My ignorance betrays expectations; I'm supposed to know everything, but I can't be too hard on myself. It's normal to not know what I don't care about, but like with Roxas, maybe I should start. "It never crossed my mind. Why didn't you say anything?"

"You never asked."

"Do I have to? I thought we were best friends? Your words, not mine." I meant it as a joke, but it hits her hard. "You don't have to take everything I say so seriously."

"But you're right." Why is everyone around me such experts in self-loathing? I know I'm an ass and I'm not proud of it, but I don't hate myself for it either. It just seems so...unproductive. Less time hatin', more time being awesome. "I was hiding it from you."

"Why?" She's free to hide things from me all she wants and it's not like I care, but if she's offering an explanation, I might as well take it.

"I didn't want to disappoint you." That's about the last thing I expected to hear.

"I don't get it."

She takes a seat on a stone bench. I sit on the one next to hers. We're at the park entrance, the border between nature's serenity and the city's bustle. We're in a good shady spot with colorful flowerbeds in front of us. I grip the back edge of my bench and admire the landscaping.

Even as one of the hottest tourist spots on the island, it never feels crowded. That's thanks to the park's immense size and branching pathways. Families and couples walk around gawk-eyed while true islanders lay out picnic blankets under trees or doze off in the sun. Of all the places they could've chosen to meet, I'm glad they chose this one. Memories of playing in the park comfort me. This was probably the only place I felt normal as a kid. Like mother, like son, I guess.

Kairi finally speaks, "Do you think that if you learn why you're love sick that you'll be cured?"

"Yes," I answer firmly. "Maybe not right away, but I can start moving in the right direction. Do you know something?"

"It's not that..." She's struggling to get the words out. The last time she was like this was when I was on her doorstep and she confessed her condition. "Did I ever tell you why I have monophobia?"

Now that I think about it, "No..." She mentioned something about abandonment issues, but I never gave it much thought. I don't like prying into other people's business—do unto others and all that.

"Mom and Dad—Reno and Cissnei—found me buried under rubble when Radiant Garden was still Hollow Bastion. I had been trapped for several days when they found me. I don't even remember it, but that's the reason for my fear."

"Whoa." I wasn't prepared for that. It sounds made up. It doesn't surprise me though. An extraordinary young woman deserves an equally as extraordinary origin story—she's a literal born survivor. Maybe it's my islander sensibilities talking, but that's a neat background. Knowing her, she may see it as a sordid part of her past.

"They took me to the nearest safe zone, which was the Nakata Orphanage, and that's how I got my name."

"And your real parents?"

"Probably dead."

"You don't know?"

"I'm what you call a lost child," she explains hesitantly. "Maybe I had been abandoned before I was buried, but Reno and Cissnei have been searching for anyone who might've known me since forever. They never found anyone. Eventually, they decided to take me in. I suppose if there's anything of my real parents left in me, it's my monophobia."

"Sorry." I took a page from Rikku's book. It's pointless to apologize, but when I have nothing else to say, it's the most appropriate and meaningless way to fill the awkward silence.

"It's okay. Cissnei and Reno are my parents now. I wouldn't trade them for the world."

Orphans have it tough, and I wonder if it was a source of pain in her childhood. If throwing up on Rikku left her scarred, what about having no parents? Kids will find any excuse to shit on others, no matter how stupid the reason. She might've gone through a lot of grief because of that.

"I don't think any less of you."

"Huh?" She suddenly laughs. "That's not the reason I hid it."

"Then why?"

"I didn't want you to give up."

"I'm kind of lost here..." What is she talking about? If anything, her story's an inspiration. Roxas should take notes.

"It's because I've always known why I have monophobia, but that knowledge has never helped me. I didn't want you to think that looking into the past was pointless."

It's my turn to laugh. "Even if it doesn't help, it's not pointless."

"It was for me," she argues. "I don't you want you to be disappointed when nothing changes."

She speaks from a firm ground of authority—personal experience. But that's just one perspective. "Just because knowing the past didn't cure your condition doesn't mean it's going to be the same for me."

"I wonder about that." It's in these brief glimpses of fatalism that I recall her true nature. Beneath her smiles, jokes, and teases is a mind tortured by chronic and crippling loneliness. She's managed to hide it so well I almost forgot. Discounting her view out of hand is an injustice to her life experience, but to acknowledge this darkness in plain daylight is equally as unappetizing. Both sides are a part of her, but it's her light that affects me most.

"Why are you helping then? Aren't you trying to figure what happened between us too? Unless this is all an excuse to..." Be with me and not care about anything else. The mere prospect gets my blood boiling. "Have _you_ given up?"

"What would you do if I said 'yes?'"

"I'd stop being your friend." I don't have time for leeches who are only with me for selfish reasons.

"Then it's not true."

If she had resigned to stick with me for the rest of her life, then my respect for her drops to dead zero. As much I resent the idea, I can't abandon her either, mostly because she's the key to my love sickness. For both our interests, I accept the shallow answer. "Okay then. I believe you."

"Why?" she asks, frustrated.

"Isn't that what you wanted me to say?"

"Why do you trust everybody when we've all lied to you? First, Rikku, Naminé, and..." You?

Since she brought it up, I realize I'm quite a forgiving and gullible guy. Naminé illustrates this perfectly. They all took advantage of my conceit and used the fact that I think I know everything against me. Jokes on them, because I don't know anything now.

"It all works out in the end," I conclude. Naminé's still out there, but at least I'm alive still.

"And what about me? Everything from my confession could be a lie. How can you trust me?"

Why is she trying to throw herself under the bus? Is this some sort of reverse psychology play where I'm forced to defend her from herself? "I have faith."

The answer stuns her. It's not like she's bringing up any new information. I've always considered the possibility that nothing will change even after I find out the truth, but it's not worth worrying about until proven true. As long as there's a goal before me, I have no choice but to chase it to the ends of the world.

"I appreciate the concern, but our situation is different enough that the outcome isn't set in stone. I bet my life on it." In spite of all her doom and gloom, I prefer this kind of Kairi over the sly and accommodating one. Honesty goes a long way for winning cookie points. "You don't have to hold yourself back around me—I mean, when it comes to what you think." I almost gave her free reign there. Whew.

"Then you should stop being friends with Rikku." That was fast. "Isn't it a bad idea to be getting friendly with _more_ girls when you're love sick?"

"To overcome fears, one must face them. What do you think I keep you around for? It's certainly not for convenience."

"I thought it's because you like me?" And just like that, the mood mirrors our scenery—light and fluffy again. She obviously forced the line, but it seems like she's somewhat back to normal. I don't want to waste her effort.

"Whatever makes you feel good, feel free to think it's true." We can now proceed with our regularly scheduled investigation. I stand up, signaling that this conversation is over. "Stop trying to be the bad guy. You suck at it. Leave it to someone more experienced."

"Like you're any better?"

"I'm the best at it," I declare with pride. "Let's not keep Hope waiting. We've wasted enough time talking."

She follows me as I look for the Grand Geyser. Kairi's past stirs up strange feelings. The more I learn about her the less I know. She's an iceberg. All I can see is the tip, but not the path of destruction down below. Who knows how many ships she's sank? It's unsettling, like learning that your hero isn't perfect at all. Perhaps that's why she was so hesitant to share her past. She has an image to maintain.

It's hard to feel sorry for her because I don't want to. Since she's the creator and destroyer of my world, to see my goddess undone by such a painful flaw renders my issues minuscule by comparison. In the grand scheme of things, it probably is, but to learn that the problem I've been grappling with my entire life is on the low end of the objective tragedy scale makes me feel like shit when other people have it much worse.

But trauma is subjective. No matter how small it starts, its magnitude can only be measured by the ripples it creates, and sometimes, those ripples are a helluva lot larger than they have any right to be. It doesn't matter if it's a pebble or a boulder; the serene surface is disturbed either way, and the whole reflection is ruined.

And that's why Kairi has to stay Kairi.

I head in a direction that feels right. I forgot where the Grand Geyser is exactly, so I'm hoping to jog my memory. I'd look at a map, but my pride as a native doesn't allow me to. Balamb Garden truly is a beautiful place. Around every corner is something astounding, whether it's a wizened old tree with innumerable thick roots or a lonely flower in a sea of perfect green. There's a unique balance of hand tailored and natural spontaneity. Everything is organically planned with cobble stone paths, dirt trails, and bridges laid over fields, flowers, and flowing streams.

Our soft foot falls on the paved concrete join the sounds of rustling foliage, the refreshing breeze, and the low murmur of voices from awestruck visitors. It's not a perfect silence, but it draws an immeasurable calm and peace that permeates our walk.

"What do you think of me?" Kairi asks, breaking the silence. I can understand her worry since she exposed an unsavory part of herself. I'm no saint myself, so I can't condemn her for it. Most people are selfish. It's how the world works. It's not necessarily a bad thing. Let's all take a moment and appreciate the wonderful things granted to us by the invisible hand of self-interest.

"No different than what I already think."

"And what's that?"

"Someone I can't leave alone."

"So lukewarm," she complains quietly, but her relief is obvious.

She seems satisfied as long as I don't hate her. I don't think I could, despite my strongly worded assertions from before. I can't fault the human condition when I'm its worst victim. That's why I feel sorry for the idiots in a horror movie. Faced with that kind of outlandish circumstance, how can any sane individual keep a straight head? That's why they lose it, figuratively, and in some cases, literally.

"It's impossible for me to think any less of you."

"That's an awful thing to say." She took the worst possible interpretation. I didn't mean it that way though; she's reached such a sublime state in my mind that it's difficult to think of her as anything less than perfect, even with all the cracks she's been showing. They're not true flaws anyways, just superficial blemishes like a naive girl hung up on her clumsiness. Something that endearing only makes her cuter.

"Look on the bright side," I encourage, "there's only one way but up." She's already maxed out, but she doesn't have to know that.

She ruminates on my remark as we continue searching. We still haven't found the Grand Geyser. It's been a while. For every familiar crossroad, we pass an equally as foreign section of the park. Kairi may suspect that I'm lost and the only reason she's not saying anything is because it means more time with me. In which case, pride must be swallowed for the sake of expediency.

I pull out my phone to bring up a map of the park. At the center of the screen is my blue arrow in a field of green. I thumb around the surrounding area until I find a big blue circle nearby with the words "Grand Geyser" next to it. We're not far off. The fastest way is to cut through a field of wildflowers.

"We're taking a shortcut," I inform.

"Since we're in such a beautiful park, shouldn't we take the scenic route?"

"Everywhere is the scenic route." She can't argue back.

I take a ginger step into the dense grass and set off a fluttering cloud of butterflies. I stumble backwards from surprise and fall on my butt, drawing a hearty giggle from Kairi. Dazzling colors sparkle from the reflection of light off butterfly scales.

I feel the stares descend on us like vultures to fresh meat. Just by giggling, she manages to become the center of attention. I get up, dust my back pockets slowly, and give her a warning, "Keep up."

I sprint forward.

"Hey!"

I find it easy to flee from her for obvious reasons. The scenery blurs on the edge of my vision as I speed through the landscape. I only meant to tease her but the idea of a total escape is highly appealing. With Kairi hot on my heels, I can't find the heart to stop, and I run even harder. I'm in no rush to see Hope and I'm not worried about being late since Kairi is worth waiting for, yet I am compelled to run faster for reasons unclear.

It started as a compulsion; it's only natural to run from danger, but as I pump my legs across the field, an alarming familiarity sinks in. I try chasing this sensation but it never becomes more than a feeling. What is it? I imagine it's because I played around this area as a kid, but that doesn't quite fit. It's not the area that feels familiar but perhaps...the situation. Being chased—I'm somehow used to it.

So deep is my reverie that I don't notice Kairi catching up until she grabs my shoulder, jerking me into the present. I come to a screeching halt, kicking up blades of grass in the process.

"Oh my god!" Her hand snaps back as if she touched hot iron. "I didn't mean to—"

Oddly enough, I'm fine. I wonder if I'm dreaming. My silence has her audibly panicked. I lower myself to the ground slowly and plant my palms. I'm not tired, unlike Kairi who is gasping and breathing much too suggestively for my ears. All those hell laps from Lightning paid off—but only for stamina. I wasn't quick enough to escape—not that I was trying to.

"Are you okay?" she asks weakly.

Maybe. I just felt something on my shoulder. Could've been a falling twig or leaf. It's only this measly doubt that prevents the burning sensation on my right shoulder from getting hotter.

"Why did you do that?" I ask.

"I... When you ran off like that, I just got the sudden urge to catch you."

"Don't you always have the urge?"

"Well, even more than usual..." Her explanation fades in shame.

In compulsion lies the truth. She didn't say it outright, but she must've felt it too. We somehow stumbled into a ritual from the past, and it's only by the grace of deja vu that I was able to endure. Were this any other circumstance, her touch would've reduced me to a puking mess. Instead, I discovered a loophole...again.

This isn't the first time. Something similar happened at the Secret Place with Rikku. She said something and it triggered a...transplanted state. I think it's a glimpse of how I used to be. This isn't a fluke. There's a pattern here—a secret formula. This and that were an all too fleeting taste of normalcy. Up until this week, I've never had so much as a whiff. It's hard to imagine the form of my cure, but I'm starting to see the bigger picture from what little scraps I've collected.

First were the words and now this situation. What I need next...is the setting. That's why I believe. The truth might not have helped Kairi, but I've already sampled its potency. This recurrence means I'm getting closer than ever to the promised land. I won't get there by chasing nostalgia, but only by cold hard investigation. I get up and dust the grass off my ass. I'm super-motivated. This is exactly the push I needed. Never thought I'd be so invigorated by Kairi's touch.

"A couple days ago, Rikku said something to me that made me feel...normal. Even though she was close to me, it was as if my sickness disappeared. The same thing just happened right now."

"What does it mean?" she asks with cautious excitement.

"It means we need to see Hope like yesterday." As if on cue, the Grand Geyser made its presence known with jets of water flying above the tree line not too far away from us. Perfect timing.

"Wow..." she lets out.

"Come on. Let's get this done with." I'm anxious to extract intel as quickly as possible. If I wait too long, who knows if I'll ever have another episode like this again? I don't like being teased. Give an inch and I gotta take the whole nine yards.

We approach the tree line and the splashing gets louder. The muffled fountain becomes clear when we pass through the thicket and emerge on the other side, with a complex column of jetting water to greet us. At the base is a small crowd admiring the show. I search the crowd until I realize I have no idea what Hope looks like.

"You know who he is?"

"Yeah. I have his picture."

Kairi holds her phone and I see a wannabe Riku on the screen. What's with kids these days and their white hair? They're forty years too young to pull it off. He's around our age with a baby face and skin paler than your typical islander. He looks sheltered in both senses of the word. Get some sun, son, you're living on a tropical island.

"Ah, there he is," she points out.

I follow the finger and spot him on a stone bench near the fountain. He's in an orange and yellow getup with a hipster scarf. Any scarf on Destiny Islands is by default, hipster. Again, you're living on a damn tropical island, man. He's not alone. I squint to make sure I'm not seeing things because it looks like there are two girls around him, and upon closer inspection, it's not just any two girls.

"Son of a bitch."

"What is it?" Kairi asks worriedly.

Nothing, aside from the fact that I've got the worst luck in the entire universe.

Serah and Vanille—those pesky girls from summer—are next our golden boy. Just thinking about their shenanigans gets the stomach churning. Serah's the reason why Lightning put me through so much torture in PE for the whole week. Of all the places, they have to be here?

"Just my usual luck." So much for Hope.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading and please leave a review. <strong>


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